Family Matters
by Borath
Summary: The Decepticons have quieted, some have defected, and the Autobots begin to build families in the tentative peace. As always, though, there is a darkness on the horizon. Sequel to 'Equilibrium' & 'Provenance', but can stand alone. OP/IH, SS/R, mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

_At the behest of Phoenix13 comes the third instalment of the 'Tempest' saga, with upcoming mpreg and sparkling cuteness. I've tried to write this so that I can be read as a stand-alone without reading 'Equilibrium' or 'Provenance', as well as a direct continuation of both. This first chapter is a bit of scene-setting._

_Updates for this won't necessarily be speedy as it'll be a side-project to other writing._

_I hope you enjoy this yarn. There are a few twists already planned for down the line._

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* * *

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Family Matters

_Chapter One_

As Prime in charge of one of the surviving handfuls of their race on an alien world caught up in their civil war, there were very few duties left to him that he could deem pleasant. But with the Decepticons quiet and a greater peace than they had experienced in years settling over the Base, happy occasions were beginning to arrive once more.

"When is the sparkling due?" Optimus asked, a soft smile gracing his features.

"Seven weeks from now," Ratchet replied, scanning through the notes before setting the pad aside. "So far everything looks good. Luna's adapted well and Bluestreak's very pleased with himself."

"So I can see," Optimus hummed as he looked across the Medbay from Ratchet's workbench to where the pair were talking quietly beside a berth.

Luna was slighter than most of the femmes he'd met, not built as a soldier. She was designed for administrative work, with a fast processor tucked beneath her pastel yellow helm. Though only landing with a very flustered Red Alert four months ago, she and Bluestreak had immediately hit it off and were now having a family. He did everything fast, it seemed.

He crossed to them both and spoke with genuine warmth. "Congratulations to you both. It's been too long since I've had the pleasure of welcoming a new life."

The pale lemon femme shrunk a little with a shy smile, far less used to the Prime's presence than Bluestreak was. He grinned broadly and slipped his arm about her shoulders. "Thank you, Sir." He shifted his weight. "We were wondering, uh, if you didn't mind, but it's okay if not because it's such an old tradition and you're my Commander, but if you'd possibly-"

"I'd be pleased and honoured to bless your child," Optimus cut in with a raised hand, breaking off the apologetic tirade before the sharpshooter had a chance to talk himself out of actually asking.

Luna beamed and finally raised her optics to meet his, bringing her slim hands that had been resting high on her abdomen to her sides.

Optimus knelt, as tradition dictated, and placed his fingertips over that cherished point. "May Primus watch over this new spark, and permit it to receive as much joy as it brings to its creators."

Standing, he clasped Bluestreak's hand with a final utterance of congratulations before watching the pair leave. Ratchet came to his side. "That was a good thing you just did."

Optimus shook his head fractionally. "A pleasant duty I am privileged with far too infrequently." With a soft sigh of mingled regret and satisfaction, he made to leave but found Ratchet's grip fixing like a steel clamp around his arm.

"Service time, Prime," the medic smirked, not letting go as he steered the mech backwards onto the berth. "Actually, your service was due two years ago, so it's definitely time I got my tools on you."

"So you used their good news to lure me down here?" It came as a statement devoid of surprise.

Ratchet gave an affirmative grunt as magnifying lenses slid over his optics. He watched the tall mech lie flat, resigned to his fate whilst bearing the first of his deep scanners on him. Given this world's high percentage of water, not to mention the granules of hard sand that found places to hide inside armour for weeks at a time, he had massively reduced the time between services. Though not concerned, he'd been particularly keen to get Prime back on a berth for a full service since Tempest had been born. It took an hour to assess everything from spark casing to hydraulic dampeners, as well to carry out the basic wear-and-tear maintenance that Prime couldn't do himself.

Optimus allowed his mind to wander over living arrangements whilst the medic worked, trying to determine which of the larger quarters he could move the growing family to would be the most sparkling-friendly. Not near Wheeljack's corner – too many semi-intelligent gadgets taken to escaping out into the corridor. The Twins still declined to have their own rooms and so would be keeping their large joint quarters. Next sure to the spacious quarters the Seekers had all moved into, perhaps. Tempest would probably like the close company of another sparkling, and Starscream was a particularly watchful bot where the young were concerned.

"Alright, you're all done," Ratchet announced, moving back to log the newest system scans with the computer. "Looks like your repair systems have covered the last scuffs and tears from Tempest."

"There's been no discomfort for many months," Optimus affirmed as he moved to sit on the edge of the berth, fidgeting as the fresh lines and seals the medic had installed warmed up.

"So are you planning on coming in here plugged again anytime soon?" Though Ratchet had asked it lightly, his expression as he regarded Prime from the work bench was serious. "It seems you may have started a trend, and now that you and Ironhide are bonded and you've already done it once before…"

Optimus shifted his shoulder in a vague shrug, face mask sliding into place. "I don't know. We've not discussed it."

Ratchet hummed thoughtfully, surprised to hear that admission. The double edged sword of a spark bond was that it was impossible to hide any significant thoughts or feelings, so both mechs must have been keeping the idea of creating their own sparklings far from the forefront of their minds.

Everyone on the Base knew that Optimus adored Tempest, and that before the war had destroyed Cybertron Ironhide had planned to settle and have a family with Chromia. It was unusual for both mechs to be acting so coy on a subject, but then, Ratchet reminded himself, they could both be legendary at thick headedness when they wanted to be. "Where is Ironhide now? He's longer overdue for a full service than any bot here."

"But he never complains," Optimus replied with a smile. Ratchet's ongoing efforts to teach the weapon's specialist that he needed more than self-maintenance were quietly entertaining. He'd give Ironhide another year before he put his foot down and ordered him to the Medbay. If the dark mech was in need of significant repair, he'd have spotted it already.

He raised a hand before Ratchet could begin grousing. "And he's off-base at present. Refreshing Prowl, Bumblebee and Arcee on aerial targeting."

"Wisely leaving the more bloodthirsty bots out of it," Ratchet commented, folding his arms. The soldiers more inclined to the frontline remained sharp in firing at everything hostile within range, whilst those usually tasked with the infiltration or rescue work in a mission only tended to fire close range. Refresher courses were something to do, particularly in quiet spells.

Standing from the berth, Optimus waited for the nod that he was free to go. "If you're satisfied here, I'm going to look into moving Luna and Bluestreak to more spacious quarters."

Ratchet nodded and waved him off. "Fine, fine, but tell Ironhide when you see him that I'm having his aft in here sooner rather than later."

Optimus suppressed a smile behind the mask, making for the door. "I'll be sure to pass it along."

* * *

A spiral fracture in his left leg and months of extensive physical therapy had kept Captain Lennox on medical leave and away from the Autobot's base since the morning of the enormous battle at the nuclear power plant that had delivered the injury. He'd kept in touch via phone and email with Optimus from the hospital some three hundred miles away, but there hadn't been anything significant to discuss. Decepticon activity was at an all time low, with such an ongoing peace rendering speculations on future movements from Megatron impossible and the bulk of Prime's communications filled with gossip about the handful of new arrivals and what everyone was getting up to.

When he'd asked Optimus why he didn't think that Megatron was amassing his forces, or worry that an enormous strike was lurking from the Decepticons, Prime had cryptically assured the soldier that though he was always vigilant of the next confrontation, he was aware that there had been a huge destabilising within the enemy ranks that would be keeping Megatron unbalanced and internally occupied for a while. Beyond that, the Autobot leader had declined to elaborate.

It was on this point that Lennox now traversed the huge corridors in search of Prime for. The Base had grown and taken on more of a feeling of permanence since he'd last visited. With few humans entering regularly, the joined hangers and extensions truly felt like the Autobot's home now in his mind. The basic layout hadn't changed, though, and when Prime's office turned up empty Lennox went to the rec room as the next logical place to check.

There were three mechs inside, none of them the towering Peterbuilt. Sideswipe and Hot Rod were playing a loud game of alien cards at the hand-made steel table, and an unfamiliar blue-grey mech sat on the oversized sofa watching a nature documentary on penguins. Noting the red optics of the enthralled bot, Lennox took a moment to watch him from the doorway before approaching.

Prime had told him about the handful of defected Decepticons who'd filtered into the Base, joining Wheelie though with more significant presences. Starscream had been a particular surprise, though Optimus spoke with something like pride of how he was settling in amongst and as an Autobot. The arrival of the two other Seekers, Skywarp and Thundercracker, had come as less of a surprised, though Lennox continued to be acutely suspicious of the mini exodus from Megatron's ranks.

There were a handful of other Decepticons who'd defected whom he'd never seen in combat before, and he guessed that this one watching penguins cartwheeling through freezing surf was one of them. Coming about the sofa, he offered a smile. "Mornin'. I'm Captain Will Lennox. I don't believe we've met."

The bot smiled back, fixing him with bright optics. "We have not." He sat forward and extended his index finger to the human. "My name is Tempest."

Grinning at the gesture, Lennox cupped the finger in his hand and went with the brief make-do handshake. Surreptitiously he looked over the big mech trying to discern his alt form. Though Tempest was less angular than Starscream, the wide plates across his back and shoulders suggested a plane. The enormous cannon not-quite tucked away on the right shoulder further suggested a fighter.

"Good to meet you, Tempest. I'm sorry, but I've been keeping apprised of the Decepticons who've switched sides and I couldn't remember your name."

Tempest frowned a little at that, and was briefly distracted by the swimming penguins on the screen before bringing his attention back to Lennox. "I've never been a Decepticon." He offered a slight shrug. "I'm classed as a sparkling. That may be why you haven't heard of me."

Lennox arched a brow at that. He knew that 'sparkling' was the Cybertronian word for a baby, and he struggled to connect that with the eloquent being in front of him. "Kinda big for a, uh, sparkling aren't you?"

Tempest replied tearing his gaze away from the television. "It was deemed safest for me to be upgraded as soon as possible. My Sire is Prime."

That made sense, Lennox concluded around a surprised cough. He really couldn't see the resemblance, though the voice bore Optimus's careful stresses. "You're Optimus's son?" A confirming nod. "Wow. I've gotta say I'm surprised he didn't mention that. I didn't know that he was even seeing someone. Guess the big guy keeps his private life very private."

Tempest shifted a little at that with downcast optics, clearly uncertain as to what to say. Lennox reminded himself that this large machine was actually a great deal younger than any of the bots he'd met before. Under a year old, he guessed. He couldn't imagine not noticing Prime's son being 'onlined' whilst he was still an active visitor to the base.

"Uh, listen, do you know where Optimus – your Sire – is now? Got a few things I need to catch up with him on coming back on duty an' all."

Tempest's expression brightened. "He went to the Medbay to see Bluestreak and Luna, but that was over an hour ago and he hasn't come back yet. He may still be there."

Lennox nodded. "I'll check it out, thanks. Nice meeting you, Tempest. I'll see you around." When he looked back at the mech from the doorway, he saw that Tempest was resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees and utterly enraptured by the documentary. With his bright optics and small flickering smile, Lennox decided that he did seem to be a child.

* * *

Though Ratchet didn't press his query about Ironhide and myself having sparklings, the topic weighs heavily on my processor as I leave the Medbay. Truthfully, I'm content with the sparkling I already have, but the production of a new life is a tempting notion. I remember that before the war entered an unprecedented intensity, before our homeworld was destroyed, Ironhide spoke of being a creator with Chromia when a more peaceful life returned. Centuries passed, our world gone and the femme absent from his life, I wonder if having his own sparklings is another part of his previously planned life he's left behind. To broach the topic could potentially only bring unnecessary pain. I'm happy with just having Tempest, and if Ironhide still wants sparklings then he will speak of it in his own time.

So engrossed in my thoughts, I don't noticed Lennox until he is a few steps from being at risk from my feet and he calls up to me.

"Captain Lennox, it is good to see you again." I kneel as I speak, noting the edge of puzzlement in his expression. "Are you fully recovered from your injuries?"

"Yeah, clean bill. I can get back to running around with NEST." He rubs the back of his neck in an indication that he is composing his words. "I just met Tempest."

Ah. I realise from his arched brow that I also said that aloud. "Forgive me for not telling you about my sparkling, Captain. I was, concerned, with how his presence would be received by the humans."

"Is that 'concern' based on the reason why he's got red eyes?"

A low sound issues unconsciously through my vents but I force my gaze to remain on his. "Yes."

Now he frowns, not understanding. "You've been involved with a Decepticon?" he asks quietly despite our solitude in the corridor. Indeed, I would not have allowed this conversation if my sensors detected any other presence. Fortunately, the corridor leading to the Medbay is usually deserted.

To Lennox's query I shutter my optics momentarily, brushing over the small plates. "No, never. I'm sparkbound to Ironhide." At his confused frown, I add, "Married in spark."

His face gives way to a grin though he is still confused, shaking his head. "Christ, Optimus, what –didn't- happen whilst I was away?"

My optics drift downwards as my processor turns inwards. I think of Tempest being forced to adopt an adult frame; of the Seekers scraping off their Decepticon insignia to receive the Autobot symbol; of Megatron's ongoing threat to take back 'our' sparkling.

Lennox's small hand rapping on my leg draws my attention back out. He frowns at me with soft creases. "Come on, Optimus, talk to me."

After rescanning the vicinity again, I resolved myself with a sigh. "Tempest's second creator was Megatron. He seeded an infant spark against my spark chamber whilst I was injured." I press on as his face registers shock. "Megatron hoped to bring Tempest to the Decepticon side as a powerful mech whom I would hesitate to fire upon. Fortunately his plan did not come to fruition, but even after carrying him I remained, anxious, that the human authorities would not see beyond his parentage and respond with hostility."

He nods a little, drawing his lower lip into his mouth in thought. "I see. Wow. That's, one hell of a busy year."

I smile a little, eased. "Indeed."

"And this is what you were talking about when you said that the Decepticon ranks had been destabilized?"

"Yes. Tempest's origins and refusal to switch faction have resolved the mechs under Megatron's ranks whom were already disillusioned to set down arms. With such an internal struggle, Megatron cannot afford to persist against us on a large scale. It isn't peace, but it's a substantial change in our favour, and the closest we have come in millennia."

A soft sound before Lennox grins and shakes his head. "Sure been a lot changed around here. I mean, you and Ironhide I didn't see coming, for a start. I'd always figured you for Arcee."

I cannot help but chuckle at that. "No, I believe Arcee is enamoured elsewhere. I didn't foresee a relationship with Ironhide, though I'm glad it has come about."

Another slow nod and, curiously, he points at me. "And you carried Tempest? As in –pregnant- carried?"

The human fixation with this fact is most strange. "Yes. Though mechs are not optimally designed to and rarely do so, we can bear sparklings." I stand when I hear my finial crack, a 'ping' from Ironhide telling me that he has returned to the Base. "I believe Ironhide would also like to see you, Captain. He should be putting training drones back into storage shortly."

Lennox takes a few awkward steps back to see up to my face, clearly encumbered by his weakened leg. "Thanks, I'll do that."

I extend my hand a little in gesture. "Would you prefer to be taken to him and spare your leg discomfort?"

He shakes his head and pats the effected thigh with a grimace. "No, doc says I've got to keep walking on it."

A familiar advisement. "Your doctor sounds like Ratchet."

"All medics are of the same breed," he tells me, turning to make his way back down the corridor to the yard. "Unsympathetic sadists creative in their torture."

I laugh, following him to return to the rec room where I have left my sparkling watching television. "Then perhaps our species aren't so different after all, Captain."

* * *

Lennox first caught sight of Ironhide crossing the yard to the huge storage lockers, Arcee, Bumblebee and Prowl trooping past him towards the shower block. They gave Lennox a wave but clearly were the worse for wear from the weapon specialist's training. He saw that there were generously flecked red and liberally sprayed with mud, explaining their keenness to get the muck showered off.

"Paintballs," Ironhide announced loudly as Lennox approached. "Wanted to try something other than soft lasers."

"Bit more of an incentive not to get hit if you've got to wear it afterwards," Lennox agreed, stopping to watch the mech unload the red spheres from several compartments on his body along with two small training drones.

Resealing the locks and affixing the big lock in place, Ironhide fixed the soldier with a grin and shifted to sit on his haunches against the structure. "How're you, Will? Is your leg sufficiently healed to return to duty?"

"Pretty much," he replied easily, also sitting against the locked. "Few pins and a couple of scars, otherwise it's as good as new."

A grunt and the mech's optics flickered as he ran a quick scan, ultimately satisfied with the readings. "Are Sarah and Annabel healthy?" he asked, recalling that such a question about family was customary following an extended absence.

Lennox grinned and automatically reached for his wallet, producing the latest photographs. "Oh yeah, the girls are great. Look how big Anna's grown."

A slight nod. "She has increased in size significantly. You must be proud of her physical development."

The human nodded, lingering on the photos for a few more seconds before tucking them back into his wallet and back pocket. He thought of the new knowledge of the dark mech's relationship, and the fact that the bots didn't seem to need both a feminine and a masculine to make a baby. "You ever think about having kids, 'Hide?"

Ironhide ran a hand across his jaw, hydraulics hissing out tension. It had been a very productive but also enjoyable training session, and it had left him in easy spirits. Sitting with Lennox again now in the sun, he understood what humans meant when they said that it felt like no time had passed at all. "Yeah, a whole bunch of them back when the war wasn't really a war, yet. That was with Chromia."

Trying and failing to remember if he'd heard the name before, Lennox shook his head. "Chromia?"

The mech's optics narrowed on something in the distance, watching something that was too far away for human eyes to see. "A femme back on Cybertron. Feisty bot, and pit of a crack shot. She stayed behind with Elita, her commander, and others to fight whilst Optimus led us in search of the All Spark." He idly thumbed a deep notch in his chassis, an old scar. "I've not heard about her since. I'm not certain that she's even alive."

"Sorry to hear that."

Ironhide shrugged, still watching something on the horizon. "It doesn't matter now."

Lennox smirked with a sidelong look. "Yeah, I heard about you and the big guy. Congrats, 'Hide. I think you do each other justice."

A rumbled sound of content agreement. "I believe so."

They fell into an easy silence, soaking the sun's warmth as they watched the three newly-clean bots reappear and cross the yard towards the rec room. Finally, Lennox broached with a considered lightness, "I met Tempest."

Ironhide glanced down to him. "What did you think of him?"

The soldier reflected on the image the bot on the sofa, clearly enthralled by the penguin documentary but politely dragging his attention away to speak to him. "He's nice. Big, though."

A barked laugh. "Yeah, for his age he should be smaller than you, but with things the way they were… He's a good spark. Bit quiet, but he's still very young."

"I wish I'd known about him sooner," Lennox admitted.

Ironhide shifted his weight a little with a frown. "Optimus was keen for discretion about the whole thing. Slag, I doubt you'd have been able to tell from looking at him even near the end. He didn't let a lot show, even when he was really struggling."

Lennox nodded, curiosity getting the better of him as he tried to imagine the huge mech whilst essentially pregnant. Certainly no officials had noticed anything out of the ordinary, aside from a note mentioning how the Autobot leader was finally delegating to Prowl a little more. "How'd he do it?" he blurted suddenly. "I mean, where did it grow?"

Ironhide tapped his chassis. "Tight fit, and Ratchet had to get creative making space, but it works. Femmes carry 'em lower where they're designed to."

A slow nod and Lennox followed the mechs stare to where he could just make out three grey spots in the sky. There was also an engine drone on the edge of his hearing. "Do you think you might have kids with him?"

His faceplates quirked before Ironhide stood, resting his hands on his hips. "I don't know. He's got Tempest, so…"

Lennox got to his feet as well and decided to drop it before this turned into a potentially awkward conversation. This was the most personal chat he'd ever had with the grizzled mech. It seemed that being with Optimus had mellowed him.

The vibration of jet engines had increased to a roar now as the three Seekers swept about overhead to come in to land in the yard. Lennox watched the lead plane with an uneasy grimace. "It's gonna take me a while to get used to that."

"You will eventually," Ironhide assured gruffly, watching the red-speckled mechs transform. Starscream was comparatively clean, though he'd more than pulled his weight playing target. "They're alright bots. Skywarp can be a pain in the aft, but Thundercracker's level headed and Starscream's changed a bit. Gets on with Tempest like a rig on fire."

Lennox arched a brow. "Seriously?"

A firm nod. "Appointed himself as a guardian before he came online, and he takes it seriously. It's the only reason Tempest has a plane alt form when both his creators were ground-based."

Before Lennox could utter more than a surprised sound, Starscream began to approach whilst the two more heavily paint-spattered Seekers headed for the shower block.

"This slag had better come off," Starscream barked, though there didn't seem to be any real anger in his tone. Lennox couldn't help but take a step back, though.

"Oh quit preening, Screamer. If the water doesn't shift it I've got some plasma cannons that'll do the job." Ironhide smirked. "Might lighten you up a bit, though, and you already sail off with every errant breeze as is."

Starscream quirked an unkind smile before his optics ran over Lennox. Quickly dismissing the human, he looked back to the broad mech. "You still going to the dance tonight?"

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Ironhide arched a brow. "Then you can bet your undersized aft on it." He nodded to the shower block. "Go get washed off. You look like you've flown into a field of bovines."

A nod before the Seeker moved away. "I'll see you tonight, gun monkey."

"Later birdstrike," Ironhide called back, turning to make his way across to the rec room.

Lennox shouted to pause him. "I'm gonna say 'hi' to 'Bee then I'm gonna head home. I that that's been about all the weirdness I can take for today."

Ironhide smiled and folded his arms, regarding the human. "You should stick around for the dance. Not been one for a while so it'll be a good show."

"I take it this is the military kind of dance, not the High School one?" Lennox guessed, idly wondering if it was purely coincidence that had led the bots to pick up the term.

"It's a good way to siphon off tension, gets bots to bond, and it's a lot of fun," Ironhide grinned outright. "Usually turns into a bit of a party afterwards, too, so it's a good night."

"Sounds it," Lennox agreed, grinning himself at the idea of the awesome spectacle of these beings scrapping hand to hand but without the element of danger. "I'll tell Epps it's happening. Sure he'd hate to miss out."

Ironhide grunted before looking back to the rec room. "I'm gonna look in on Optimus and Tempest. I'll see you tonight. Nineteen hundred start."

"I'll look forward to it."

* * *

When Optimus had sat down on the sofa, Tempest had automatically shifted to half-lie in his Sire's lap, his head resting just beneath the comforting pulse of his spark as he watched the polar bear documentary that had just started. With one hand draped over his sparkling, the Autobot leader used the other to thumb through data pads on the arm of the sofa.

Ironhide tapped Tempest's leg to move before he sat down, receiving both limbs from the mech's curled body straight into his lap. Not wanting to disturb the enthralled sparkling, he brushed Optimus's mind through the bond. :You know, one day I'm going to weld that hatch shut.:

Optimus smiled, gathering the pads and slotting them into said hatch on his shoulder where he kept the reports he accumulated on-foot during the morning. :Did you see Captain Lennox?:

:Yeah, he found me in the yard before the Seekers finally turned up.:

A sidelong look and an arched brow. :I thought you were taking the new drones out for training?:

Ironhide's mouth flickered in a smile. :You know as well as I do that the best things for aerial target training are aerial bots.;

A beat. :You took the paintballs, didn't you?: It wasn't a question.

The dark mech smirked outright. :Screamer wasn't best pleased.:

:I'm not surprised.:

:He cooled off when I said he could fire them back, though. Probably be keen to follow up on it tonight.:

Optimus rumbled a knowing sound to that, running his hand down Tempest's shoulder. Despite his best efforts the sparkling was beginning to doze off, and Optimus wanted to keep him awake so he'd recharge through the evening. When Tempest had fidgeted and refocused on the television, he looked to his sparkmate. :Luna's carrying. I found out this morning.:

Ironhdie grinned at the news, resting his head back on the sofa. :I'll bet Bluestreak hasn't shut up about it yet. Surprised he hasn't gotten on the comm.:

:I think he's planning to announced it tonight. He seems to be taking Luna's lead on it, and she's comparatively quiet.: A long silence as Ironhide half-watched the documentary and Optimus considered his thoughts. Finally, he added, :Ratchet asked if we were planning on having a sparkling.:

Ironhide turned to meet his stare, optics bright and serious. :What did you say?:

:Only that we hadn't discussed it.:

The dark mech nodded a little at that, returning his gaze to the television though he wasn't watching it. There was a long enough pause for his sparkmate to conclude that the topic was closed before he suddenly said, :I'd like about four.:

There was a bubbling sensation across the bond as Optimus laughed silently. :It's not like a drinks dispenser. Unless you're nominating yourself?:

Ironhide quirked a smile at him. :I hear the first one's the hardest, and the rest get easier.:

Both mechs semi-watched the documentary with Tempest for several minutes before Optimus looked across again. :You really want a sparkling?:

Ironhide's shoulder jerked in a shrug. :With you, yeah.:

A nod and a slow warm smile. :I guess we've got some decisions to make. We can talk about it later.:

:Sounds good.: A thought occurred and Ironhide fixed the taller mech with a serious look. :Discount anything I say about it tonight on High Grade, alright?:

Optimus arranged his features into an expression of utmost, serene seriousness. :That depends entirely on what you say.:

Ironhide 'harrumphed' and looked back at the television pointedly, his thumbs running unconscious circles on the sparkling's ankles in his lap.


	2. Chapter 2

Family Matters

_Chapter Two_

Lennox heard the dance long before he crossed the Base to the clear expanse at the foot of the bluff – a semi-circle rise that scooped most of the connected buildings and hangers. Arriving with Epps at ten past seven, he noted that if it weren't for the absence of weapons fire, it would sound like any real fight. Metal clanged, screamed and groaned as the mechs went at each other, but there was also rumbling laughter, cheers and a lot of goading. Almost all the Base's bots were gathered in a ring about the two wrestling inside, fighting to place their own crescent shaped device between the rib struts and onto a neural line on their opponent.

Sideswipe and Bumblebee were the current combatants, grappling and rolling on the ground in an attempt to pin one another on their backs. Sam and Mikaela watched from the enviable vantage point of Optimus's shoulder, and the soldiers weaved to stand at the mech's feet to see the action. After a few more minutes, Bumblebee made use of his smaller stature and slipped under Sideswipe's legs, whooping as he slammed the crescent in.

A shrill sound like a whistle went up from Prowl over the shouts and whistles, signalling the end of the match. He looked around those present. "Volunteers to go against Bumblebee?"

A few hands went up back with grins as they watched Sideswipe shake the victor's hand and retreat from the ring. Stood in a tight cluster opposite Optimus and Ironhide, the Seekers exchanged a look before Starscream raised his hand. Bumblebee pointed to him instantly, bouncing like a boxer as the mech took the crescent from Sideswipe and stepped into the ring.

"Twenty on Starscream," Skids and Mudflap shouted in unison.

"Thirty on Bumblebee," Optimus followed, glancing to Ratchet who was taking notes.

More bets on both mechs were called whilst the combatants exchanged small talk until Ratchet nodded that betting was closed. Prowl sounded the whistle to start.

Epps leaned in to Lennox. "You sure those two aren't just going to kill each other?"

"Against the rules," Ironhide grunted as he moved to one knee, optics bright and fixed on the fast scrap.

Optimus smiled. "Starscream and Bumblebee are quite amicable. They won't –really- hurt each other."

Lennox nodded, familiar himself with such physical games between soldiers to keep morale up during quiet periods. The match seemed a close one, both mechs evenly agile and Bumblebee's stature countered by Starscream's hyper-sensitive, almost precognitive sensor array. In the rolling spells on the ground, the Seeker seemed to be largely coming out on top amidst throws and tumbles.

Lennox had to shout up to be heard over the din. "Why'd you back Bumblebee?"

Optimus's optics flashed with amusement. "I like an underdog."

They watched the match go on for several minutes before Starscream managed to get the yellow mech into a headlock and land his crescent. Prowl sounded the victory over Optimus's quiet, good-natured sigh.

"Volunteers to go against Starscream?"

Ironhide stepped immediately into the ring, and both mechs grinned in wicked anticipation as they began to circle each other.

"Oh yeah!" Epps whooped, abandoning Lennox when Sideswipe offered his hand for a better view. "Fifty on Ironhide!"

Optimus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, readjusting his stance as he folded his arms. "You should get comfortable, Captain," he advised warmly. "This one will not be over quickly."

* * *

The general consensus hours later was that Ironhide had won, though Prowl and Ratchet had called a draw. After almost forty minutes of hand-to-hand that had even had some of the bots wincing, both mechs had ended up staggering against each other stuck in a lock and a counter luck, leaking coolant and hissing stale heat. Ironhide had had his hands fixed on the Seeker's wing struts after battering the covers back and looked set to tie them in a bow. Starscream had wrapped his long arms around the broad mech's shoulders and was squeezing at the main motor hubs of Ironhide's arms. Caught in a stalemate on the verge of causing unreasonable damage, the crescents lay forgotten a distance away on the ground.

That animosity harking back to centuries of hatred only recently laid to rest was completely absent again by the end of the dance and other matches, both mechs sitting near one another and trading insults as they steadily downed an impressive amount of high Grade.

Sat in chairs around two coolers of beer and Coke, the humans watched the bots loudly recount the matches, argue about bets and speculate on the fights they'd wished they'd seen. Optimus against Ironhide was a curiously popular request, as well as a rematch between Skywarp and Arcee. That fight had been particularly colourful, with Skywarp quickly growing disinterested in taking it seriously and playfully engaging the femme in jovial acrobatics as opposed to real fighting. Arcee won in a fit of digitized laughter standing on the Seeker's wings as if he were a bulky surfboard.

At Optimus's encouragement, Bluestreak had finally staggered to his feet and announced the news of his coming sparkling with Luna, earning a round of cheers and congratulations for both bots and a fresh supply of High Grade. Bluestreak was quickly tanked into recharge and lay slumped into his bemused sparkmate's lap.

Lennox had never seen such a celebration between them before – hadn't seen all the Autobots this relaxed. Even Starscream was laughing at something Ratchet was telling him. The Twins had left to skid doughnuts and figure eights in the dry grass over the bluff; Skywarp had passed out unceremoniously against Thundercracker's side, much to the older Seeker's chagrin; and Optimus and Ironhide sat close to the humans, smiling and trading subtle touches.

Inspired by Bluestreak's earlier announcement and a lot of High Grade, Ironhide beckoned Lennox over and deftly set the human on his bent knee. "Hey Will," he greeted with a broad grin. "I'm gonna get me a sparkling like Bluestreak's got coming."

"Congrats," Lennox toasted the clearly drunken mech, raising his own bottle. "Does Optimus know?"

"Yes," the Prime rumbled lightly, looking away from Starscream to regard the human with bright optics. "The specifics are under negotiation." A gentle elbow into Ironhide's side. "There's no reason you couldn't carry it, after all."

"Says you," Ironhide groused into his raised cube before taking a swallow.

"Aw, come on, 'Hide. Optimus's already done it once. It'd only be fair," Lennox needled, glancing to Optimus whom was giving his sparkmate's profile an arch look.

Ironhide's engines grumbled in a deep reverberation. "Just don't much like the idea of my body being compromised and out of control like that."

A hard shunt of air in a 'tuh' from Optimus as he spoke around his own cube. "How do you think I felt?"

The dark mech shook his head irritably and looked to Ratchet. "Hey doc," he shouted, snapping the medic's attention from Starscream with a raised brow. "Can't you find a way to just grow a sparkling in a box and save the hassle?"

Ratchet muttered something under his breath before folding his hands and bestowing a particularly condescending look. "Do we need to have the talk again, Ironhide? Well, when two bots love each other very much-"

Ironhide threw an empty cube at his head. Ratchet ducked.

"- and they want to make a little bot, then someone's got to get plugged. It doesn't make you any less of a mech to be the one to do so."

Lennox pressed a fist to his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched Optimus looking to Ironhide, clearly very interested to hear what his partner had to say to that.

The oblivious mech waved the remark off. "I know that, Ratch'. Slag, it just don't sit well with me. I'd be happier protecting someone carrying than have a little bot kicking me in the cooling vents and making me purge all hours."

"All discomfort aside," Optimus broke in softly, though the richness of his voice naturally brought about quiet. "Sparkbearing is a very gratifying experience. To be able to make life after the loss of the All Spark is a gift from Primus and one that is readily treasured."

"So you're keen to get straight back to the examinations, purging, kicking, pacing, overclocking and the particular pleasantries of birth?" Ratchet asked lightly, smirking though there was an edge of genuine inquiry in his fuzzy optics.

Optimus shifted a little, touching the back of his neck with one optic narrowed. "Now I didn't say –that-."

A ripple of laughter, though Lennox found himself watching the regal mech with a serious expression. It amazed him that Optimus, firstly, had been subjected to an unwanted pregnancy by his enemy, but that he now spoke of the experience warmly, as though the miracle of bearing life had made up for the nature of its instigation. He'd not given any thought to the bots having children before now. Like everyone else, he'd thought that all new Cybertronians came from contact with the All Spark – a comparatively easy thing. Making their own offspring sounded like very hard work, but, he reasoned, with their species almost gone, they had to have children the hard way to survive.

When things had returned to a comfortable burble of chatter between the drinking bots, Optimus touched Ironhide's hand. "I'm going to check on Tempest and get some recharge. Early meeting with the secretary of defence."

"You can do that from berth," Ironhide commented, briefly nudging his weight into the taller mech.

A soft chuckle. "I doubt I'll be dragging myself to my office at that hour. I'll see you later." Pushing himself up to his feet, Optimus returned Prowl's vague wave before retreating back to the Base.

Lennox noticed Ironhide's optics dim a little and his face plates pull together in thought as he took a shallow sip from his cube. Wondering if it was more than just Optimus's departure that had brought about this change in mood, he pushed a smile and broached, "Negotiations, huh?"

Ironhide paused with the cube lowered to his jaw, blinking. He arched a brow and cycled a long wave through his vents. "We'll see."

* * *

Ratchet wasn't what a human would term a 'lightweight' when it came to High Grade despite rarely drinking, so he surmised upon waking in the Medbay that he must have drank a lot. His professional domain was much closer than his quarters to the site of the previous night's festivities, and apparently a preferable distance to stagger for recharge.

Rubbing his optics with both hands against the inevitable processor ache, he froze when he realised that a third hand was still resting on his chassis. Directly over his spark still throbbing in its casing, electrified with the lingering charge of a recent interface.

Optics shuttering hard beneath his fingers, Ratchet groaned inwardly and tried to remember what had happened last night. It was something to delay ending the mounting dread in finding out who was on the berth with him. He'd watched the fireworks, he recalled. He vaguely remembered teasing Ironhide, and he knew he'd spent some time talking to Starscream. The medic paused. He's spent a lot of time talking to Starscream, in fact. It struck him that they'd ended up completely monopolising each other's company whilst drinking, relaxing mindlessly into stories of their lives before the war had made them soldiers.

They'd been on easy, even close terms since the Seeker had started spending most of his time in the lab or Medbay, getting back to his scientific roots on the side of acting as a mentoring guardian to Tempest. Starscream was a brilliantly minded and quick witted bot, his true personality flourishing over the year away from Megatron's hold. Ratchet had come so far as to think of them as friends.

With dread swirling in his tank, Ratchet finally uncovered his optics and looked at the bot half-draped against him on the berth.

Well. That was that fragged.

Instinctively he tried to shift back, rolling his optics with a sigh when the pointed fingers gripped onto his frame and held him still. His keen sensors pointed out that the other mech was only in a light recharge now. "Starscream, get off."

An irritable sound and the mech shifted a little. "It's early. Shut up and go back to recharge."

Ratchet dimly wondered if the Seeker even knew what had happened, though it was likely obvious to them both with the way his spark was happily tingling away. It hadn't been that long, he thought, then smiled grimly when he quickly realised that, yes, it had. And of all the bots in the universe to wake up with after a night of heavy drinking…

A second attempt to move away was met with the same result. Apparently Starscream quite enjoyed having a warm vent against the glass of his chest, the medic's fans cycling warm air at an even greater rate now as his systems woke up to this… situation. "If I might," he broached cautiously, desperately searching his processor for a solid memory but finding only glitches and bad code, "who initiated… this?"

Infuriatingly, Starscream shrugged before finally mumbling, "High Grade."

"Uh huh." Ratchet shot a wary glance to the door and looked back at the Seeker uncharacteristically snuggled into his body. He sincerely didn't want to be caught like this. Even though Starscream had been pretty much accepted into the Autobots, he didn't foresee such a development being taken well by someone like Hot Rod or Ironhide. Ignoring Starscream's sleepy rumble of irritation, he pulled the mech's hands off him and got off the berth, taking a few steps back and finally standing with folded arms not knowing where to look.

In the absence of the heat source he'd been recharging quite pleasantly against, Starscream opened his optics and sat up on the berth, rolling his shoulders to stretch his wings a little. The buzz of overload still hummed through his lines, casting a welcomed tingle across his wings. It had been a far better night than he'd anticipated, he mused with a thin smile.

Finally looking to Ratchet and noting the closed posture and energetically averted gaze, he slid off the berth. "Don't turn this into a big deal, Ratchet. Some things aren't worth over-thinking."

Ratchet raised an incredulous brow and met the Seeker's arch look. "You're saying that I should just 'listen to my spark'?" he scoffed, not meaning that to sound as bitter as it had come out.

Starscream rested his hands on his slim hips, allowing the distance that the medic had put between them. "I'm saying that we both drank a lot of High Grade, we both enjoyed ourselves, and it's not a big deal." His mouth quirking, he glanced at the floor briefly. "I know you wouldn't want any of the Autobots to find out that this had happened. Don't worry. I won't say anything."

The medic frowned at that, arms loosening to fall to his sides. There was no cringing shame on Starscream's features like there was in his bearings, and he'd seemed at peace until he'd raised the matter of someone finding out and judging Ratchet for his choice of partner. He warily accepted that there must have been some level of attraction between them for this to have happened, though he hadn't been aware of it, because Starscream wasn't the kind of bot to seek just anyone's intimate company. The Seeker was only uncomfortable now because he sincerely believed that Ratchet was ashamed of having interfaced with him, which given how he was reacting he could understand.

Ashamed wasn't the right word, Ratchet concluded privately. Surprise, unease and a myriad of other things, but certainly not shame. He took a step forward, feeling his expression relax into a concerned frown. "Starscream, I-"

The Seeker cut him off with a curt wave, his body straightening into its usual proud stance. "It's alright Ratchet. Let's just not." A glance towards the door before he looked back with a composed expression. "I've got patrol in a bit with Thundercracker. I'll see you in the lab later."

His processor blank, Ratchet simply nodded and watched as the other mech left in mutual silence. After a few moments he pressed a hand to his optics, sighing to himself as he wondered what he was going to do with this.

* * *

A week after the dance life on the Base seemed just as it had before Lennox had left, though he thought that things were a lot busier. With the influx of landed and defected bots, the rec room and kitchen were always busy, and it was easier than before to lose a specific mech on the site despite size. Aside from the now-routine and rather short debriefings and voice conferences, Optimus had been a conspicuously absent presence about the Base. Along with Ironhide.

Lennox and Epps had privately concluded that they were doing the 'making sparklings' thing, which they remained leery to speculate on the specifics of, and left them to it. But after a week without a training exercise or an informal chat, both soldiers had decided to try their luck finding the weapons specialist and Autobot leader.

Crossing the yard after checking in with security that they hadn't left the perimeter fence, the pair caught sight of a brightly coloured mech carrying sheets of metal towards the Medbay.

Epps raised his hand. "Ratchet, is Ironhide around?"

"He's busy with Optimus," Ratchet replied with a quirked smile.

Lennox rolled his eyes. "What, still? Jeez, Ratch', it's been a week. How can they still be at it?"

The medic rolled his unencumbered shoulder in a shrug. "It's a necessary part of bringing about sparkling. They'll be finished soon, no doubt. Feel free to try your luck, though. They're in the rec room with Bumblebee and Sam, I believe."

Lennox gaped a little. "They're doing it in front of Sam?"

A huffed sound. "Sam's taken it as a spectator sport. Go ahead and see for yourself."

As Ratchet move off towards the hanger, Lennox saw a huge grin split Epps's features and held up his hands. "Oh no, no way. I do -not- want to see that. It's bad enough that the kid is."

"Hey man, Ratchet said to go ahead, and this I gotta see," the soldier replied still grinning, turning to jog the rest of the way across the yard.

With a long suffering sigh, Lennox followed.

He caught up with Epps at the doorway to the rec room, lingering alongside him with a matching expression of surprise. Optimus and Ironhide certainly didn't look like they were mid-coitus. In fact, they looked mid-fight and indifferent to the mech and teen sitting on the oversized sofa a little way from them. Evidently Bumblebee and Sam had already been here when this spat had walked in and hadn't tried to leave yet.

Sam had never really seen any behaviour between the two mechs that suggested they were a couple, aside from occasional touches and catching them fooling around in the showers once. It made seeing their lovers' spat in the making absolutely riveting.

Optimus stood positively filling the room with his presence as he folded his arms and looked down upon the broader, but undeniably shorter mech. "You think that carrying a sparkling is degrading?"

"Oh, he is so dead," Sam murmured under his breath with a grin.

"Or we are," Bumblebee whined quietly, making for a discrete retreat but finding his human charge wasn't going anywhere. It would be outright negligent of him as a guardian to leave Sam here alone just in case the pair really kicked off, so with an uneasy warble he simply shrunk on the spot.

To his credit Ironhide didn't try to shirk under that withering gaze. "No, I just don't like the idea of being unable to do my job because of carrying."

Optimus cocked his head at that, optic ridges rising just-so. "You're saying that I didn't do my job whilst I was carrying Tempest?"

In the doorway, Lennox and Epps exchanged a look. Bumblebee put his head in his hands. Sam was practically bouncing.

Now Ironhide did shift a little, glancing to the ceiling as if it might have an answer. It shrugged back and he met his sparkmate's bright optics again. "I didn't say that," he replied evenly. "But you were overclocked almost constantly, not to mention the kicking. You struggled, and you've pretty much got a desk job."

Optimus took a step closer, positively looming now. "Desk job?"

Bumblebee synthesized a cough, hoping that reminding the pair of their audience would curtail this since he couldn't leave. Epps was looking between the mechs as if watching a tennis match and Lennox had his hands pressed together to his mouth in near-prayer.

To the hanging enquiry, Ironhide ran a hand across his jaw with a grimace. "Uh, comparatively speaking."

The taller mech narrowed his optics. "I fought Megatron inside a nuclear reactor. Whilst in labour."

Ironhide huffed loudly, rolling his optics. "In a display of tactical brilliance, I'll add."

Now Optimus shifted irritably. "Don't start that again. I was fine."

The dark mech pointed a blunt finger. "That's not always a qualifier of success."

"Neither is 'has it -completely- exploded?'"

A glower and Ironhide opened his mouth to retort but suddenly realised that Optimus was smiling behind the mask, the plates around his optics crinkled in amusement. He shook his head. "You're a slagging pain sometimes, you know that?"

Optimus gave an innocent half-shrug. "It's very rarely that I tweak your bearings."

"Didn't mean that you had to do it for a whole week," Ironhide groused back, though there was a trace of a smile in his features. It had been a long time since Prime had displayed such playful teasing, the stoic burdens of command and duty usually leaving little room for humour. Evidently he hadn't lost his touch, though, playing him into digging his own holds like a harp.

"This is what you've been doing all week?" Lennox blurted, stepping properly into the room and looking between the mechs. "We thought you'd been bed-bound trying to make a sparkling."

Ironhide grunted faintly, folding his arms. "Not that fast – not without discussing it first."

"To bear a sparkling is a large decision and a significant undertaking," Optimus explained gently.

Epps nodded a little. "Yeah, it's the same for us." A beat before his eyes widened and his hands came up. "Humans, I mean. Not guys. Guys don't, can't, even -"

Optimus raised his own hand, sensing the man's discomfort. "We are aware of the reproductive shortcomings of your gender."

Where Sam mouthed silently, Lennox echoed aloud, "Shortcomings?"

The Autobot leader gave Ironhide a knowing sidelong glance. "Comparatively speaking."

As Epps _tuh_-ed under his breath, Lennox elbowed him to let it drop. Bumblebee touched Sam's back lightly with one finger. "Come, Sam, Wheeljack wanted your opinion on his latest project today."

Sam's brow crept up towards his hairline. "-My- opinion?"

The yellow mech smiled. "I believe it is a toy he's been making for Tempest, based on an item some humans enjoy using."

Intrigued as to what a Cybertronian's idea of a toy was surpassed the foreboding but-best-not curiosity that came with any of Wheeljack's 'projects', and Sam nodded for Bumblebee to put him on the floor. "Cool, let's check it out."

"Please make sure it isn't volatile. Tempest is still an infant," Optimus requested with a seriousness that made Sam grin.

"Yeah, no problem." He looked to the pair in the doorway. "Are you hanging around here, Captain, or are you coming to give your two cents?"

Lennox clicked his gaze up to Optimus, noticed the subtly request and finally smiled back at Sam as the teen approached. "We'll take a look with you. Annabel's not much older than Tempest, and I wouldn't mind seeing what a bot's idea of a toddler's toy is."

After the humans had left with Bumblebee followed close behind, Ironhide's vents hissed a sigh and he stepped in close to his sparkmate, rubbing his optics. "Sorry about some of that. I didn't mean to say that I thought-"

"'Hide," the taller mech murmured, cutting off the apology. "I'm sorry for taking things too far. I hope you know that I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. If you don't wish to carry, I shan't ask you."

Ironhide met his gaze suppressing any indication of his unease. "So that's it? You'll do it?"

A gentle sound of assent. "One of us has to as I don't wish to seek a surrogate, and you're uncomfortable with the idea. I know what to expect and I'm content to do it again."

"Are you sure?" Ironhide asked softly, brow knitted in a frown. "It's a damn hard thing for a mech, and Tempest could have been a lot worse than he already was in carriage."

Optimus ghosted a metallic stroke down his sparkmate's arm until he touched a scarred hand, loosely mingling their fingers. "It won't be so hard with you, and I'm happy to do it for us."

Ironhide squeezed the paler fingers. "It's a great gift you give me."

The slick sound of the prow-shaped mask retracting. "I give it gladly."


	3. Chapter 3

_This really is the 'couples' chapter. Warnings for mechslash and other lovely things._

_

* * *

_

Family Matters

_Chapter Three_

There weren't many things that could still Bluestreak's vocal processor. Excited or anxious, words flooded from him as if he'd sprung a leak. He hated silence – found it unnerving that in a universe filled with life, growth and destruction that it could ever be quiet for minutes at a time – and so filled it with what he knew perfectly well was inane chatter. Silence only came to him in certain moments – the short, shocked aftermath of a death or upon finding his attention fixed upon something so spectacular that it couldn't be translated into words.

Lying on his berth with Luna, spooned to her back and cupping the very bottom of her chassis whilst listening to the rhythmical sounds of her systems as she built their child, was one of those moments. At two weeks old there was only the thread-fine outline of a skeletal protoform around its spark, and so nothing to distort her body or feel moving against her plates, but he imagined that he could feel it. A point of warmth beneath plates that appeared unremarkable on the surface, but from which he couldn't bring his attention from when he saw her.

Luna rested her slim hands over his blunt fingers, shifting fractionally on the berth and smiling when she felt his hands press, searching. "You won't be able to feel her for another three weeks, Ratchet said."

Bluestreak kissed the back of her helm, resting his chin against the smooth metal. Though the gender of the sparkling would be debateable until the halfway point of carrying, she insisted that it was a femme simply because there were already too many mechs around the Base. "Yeah, maybe, but I want to feel her first, not have Ratchet telling me in a check up that I can. I wouldn't want to miss it. You've got it easy – you'll be able to tell right away, and you'd better come find me if I'm not there."

"Of course I would," she soothed, running the flat pads of her fingers across his knuckles to still his speech. "I wouldn't want to miss it either, but if I'm in recharge when she kicks for the first time…"

It was a tease and Bluestreak hugged her for it. "I'd wake you right up, because my hands are always right here, see?"

Luna smiled as those strong hands flexed in a brief squeeze before relaxing to rest against her again. After a few minutes his fingers began to run small, warm circles. When she sighed into the caress, one hand moved to the thinnest point on her waist to thumb her backstrut whilst his fingers stroked over and between her thin surface plating. "That feels nice."

"Good to know," he murmured back, his words coming slowly from intent as his hand became bolder.

Though clearly enjoying the petting, Luna allowed it for only a few more minutes before holding Bluestreak's wrists to stop him. "Please, no more."

Frowning at her tone, the warrior mech slid his arm out from under her to prop himself on his side, gazing down at her face with obvious concern. "What is it? Are you okay? Does something hurt? Should I get Ratchet? I'll get Ratchet. I-"

Her fingers touched his mouth whilst her own twitched into a smile. "I'm fine, you don't need to call Ratchet. I just don't know if we should take this any further."

Bluestreak's shoulder twitched in a shrug, though he wasn't thinking with his interface panel at the moment. He loved his femme, now more than ever, and wanted to please her. "It'd be really gentle, I promise. Ratchet said it'd be okay."

She sighed, optics brightening a little from where they had been dimming towards a light recharge. "Ratchet may the best field medic in the Autobots, but he's not well versed with sparkbearing. He told me himself that he's not a specialist, and that he's only worked with five femmes in the past. I just don't want to risk anything happening."

"You could ask Prime," Bluestreak suggested, blinking when Luna's expression morphed into a look of horrified astonishment. "What?"

"Ask the Prime?" Luna echoed back incredulously, mouth open and apparently waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come she shook her head. "I can barely ask him to sign off on paperwork for me. I'm not going to just ask him about sparkbearing, let alone interfacing."

Bluestreak's frown deepened, sincerely failing to see the problem. "Why not? Prime's the only bot here who's carried, so straight away he'll know more about what it's really like than Ratchet does, even though he's a mech so it might have been a bit different. He's really nice, Luna. He's got an open door policy for just this kind of stuff – so any bot can come to him with any problem." A pause and he rolled his optics. "Well, he –did- until he got bonded to Ironhide. Now it's like a ninety percent of the time open door policy, and the other ten percent you just have to come back later. But that ten percent is usually off-duty time anyway, so I guess it doesn't make much difference. It's good that he leaves the office nowadays, really."

Narrowing one optic, Luna sat up a little on her elbows before he could carry on. "You would really go into Prime's office and just ask him if he interfaced at all whilst he was carrying Tempest? You'd be able to look him in the optic and say those words?"

"I don't have a problem saying anything," Bluestreak replied smartly with a grin, though it faltered as the proposed scenario ran through his head. "Though maybe not look him in the optics whilst I said it. I mean, if it was just something about sparkbearing I'm sure he'd be happy to talk about it, but asking the Supreme Commander of the Autobots about his sex life… Yeah, that might be where the line is on the open-door thing. And even if he didn't kick me out and answered the question, I don't think I'd even want to know because, well, he's Prime and that's way, way too personal. I mean, I'm sure he doesn't recharge in a box or anything, but still it's not something I want in my processor. Not that it freaks me out, but I suppose it does, just that-"

Luna hushed him again with her fingers, her bottom lip caught between her dentals as a lyrical laugh fought to escape her vocal processor. "It's alright, Blue', I didn't want you to anyway."

A look of pure relief and Bluestreak nodded, lying down again and pulling her body back into his. Without conscious thought his fingers began laying trails again, only stopping when the femme clicked a soft admonishment at him. Plates heating in frustrated embarrassment, he tucked his head into her shoulder. "I'll go see Ratchet tomorrow," he mumbled, shuttering his optics and summoning a recording of a baseball game to his processor.

* * *

It had been a week since 'that' night, and Ratchet couldn't decide what was more infuriating: the fact that he couldn't remember any of it and thus had only the cringing embarrassment left after the enjoyable part was over to think on; or that Starscream was acting as if nothing had happened. He'd have been happier if the Seeker had been avoiding him, or seemed to be acting abnormally in any way, but Starscream's behaviour hadn't changed an iota. He still brought in the first 'for you' extra cube of energon in the morning when they were both looking over projects to check on progress during the night, starting the alternating pattern of who left to get them both fuel throughout the day. He still sat at his usual place in an out-of-the-way corner of the Medbay next to Ratchet's radio, which he never touched despite occasionally complaining about the music. He still came to him for second opinions on his biochemistry work and excused himself when he was due to see Tempest.

In response to this, Ratchet had been making a point of acting normally as well. He called Starscream over when a large part he was repairing needed an extra degree of brute force. He apologized when he had to throw the Seeker out for a while when a screen wasn't sufficient for a patient. He drank his energon listening to what he was doing at the moment, curiosity morphing into intrigue at the mech's proposed approach to creating energon from the newer sustainable resources the humans had developed so they'd no longer have to filter out the impurities from converted fossil fuels. He genuinely enjoyed the other's company, having forgotten how nice it was not to be the only bot in the Medbay and to still be able to work in a professionally geared atmosphere.

After a week without so much as an embarrassed optic flicker at unintentional innuendo (a part of working with rods, drills and other equipment), Ratchet had decided that he had to confront the Seeker about what had happened just so that he wouldn't be constantly waiting for it. Waiting for what, exactly, he wasn't sure, but something. Something surely had to have changed simply because they'd interfaced. Obsessing over this was keeping him from recharge now.

Running all this through his processor again had given him the impetus to abandon his berth and make the short walk to the Seekers' shared quarters. At the door and mindful of the hour, he pinged Starscream privately and waited. There was no response and, assuming deep recharge, Ratchet turned to return to his own living space.

"You get me up and now you're leaving?"

Ratchet stopped and looked back over his shoulder, seeing a fairly disgruntled mech standing in the darkened doorway. "Never mind, it can wait. Go back to berth. I'm sorry I disturbed you."

Starscream frowned at that and stepped out fully into the corridor, glancing back to see if he'd awoken any of the remaining three Seekers before shutting the door and approaching the medic. "No, I'm up now. What's on your mind?"

Feeling somewhat lost now that he was on the cusp of confronting the mech, Ratchet glanced about partially to check that they were alone and partially to gain a few extra seconds to think. Finally he replied, "Not here. Medbay?"

The broad mech folded his arms. "Your quarters are closer and, by my reckoning, empty."

Ratchet's mouth tightened into a hard line at that, narrowed optics scrutinizing to see if anything more had been meant by that comment. Starscream's expression remained impassive, however, so he merely nodded and led them a few doors down the corridor to his own. Letting the other mech enter first, he flicked on the lights and was suddenly, illogically, self-conscious. He rarely had visitors to his own quarters, tending to see bots around the Medbay or in the yard. This felt like a peculiar kind of invasion that he'd allowed to happen.

Starscream was watching him expectantly, his sharp features tight. "So? What's wrong?"

A beat whilst Ratchet wrestled for some kind of response, before he finally blurted, "We can't keep acting like this."

The Seeker blinked though immediately masked his surprise, shifting his weight on his feet a little as he stood in the middle of the room. There were chairs but Ratchet hadn't invited him to sit. There was a door to leave but Ratchet was blocking it. The only other door led to the berthroom, and he was quite sure that it wasn't going to get used. He studied the mech's features. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Ratchet barked back, perturbed that he was having to be the one to move things along to a reconciliation. He couldn't spend his time wondering what was really going through Starscream's mind, wondering if the defector felt as sick about what had happened as he did or if he wanted to do it again. The latter he'd made a point of not giving a lot of thought to. "We can't go on pretending nothing happened."

Suddenly animated, Starscream threw up his hands and moved to the side of the room to lean his back against the wall. "I knew you were going to make a big deal out of this. Stupid Autobots just have to pick and pick until the weld comes off."

Ratchet scoffed. "Let me remind you that you're a so called 'stupid Autobot' now as well. And I'm not picking. I'm just…" A vague gesture of helpless, irritated confusion with his hands before he moved to the opposite wall to put as much distance between them as possible. "I don't know what happened. I don't remember anything except for waking up. I'm not even certain if anything happened at all."

A flickered smirk and Starscream's optics flashed a ruby hue. "Things happened, and it's a shame you can't remember because you seemed to enjoy it."

Despite himself Ratchet cringed with shuttered optics, gritting his dentals. At least they were getting somewhere, though. "So you remember everything?" he bit out for clarification. If the Seeker just told him what had actually happened, particularly who initiated the proceedings, his over-imaginative processor might back off.

Unseen, Starscream nodded. "My system's tolerance is more resistant to getting over-energized than yours, it seems."

Ratchet shook his head, unshuttering his optics but keeping his gaze on the floor between them. "I've never experienced a blackout before, but then maybe I've never drunk that much before. I don't remember."

A hard shunt made Ratchet look up as Starscream fairly glowered at the floor. "Or maybe you're blocking it because you're having some kind of PTSD."

The medic looked up archly. "I hardly think over-energized interfacing can be deemed traumatic."

Starscream scoffed, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. "Yeah, because you've been –completely- unaffected by me, what with taking a step back when I come near you all week, and dropping things off your workbench because you think I'm watching you."

Ratchet refused to fidget, however minutely. It stung a little that the Seeker thought him to have been so rattled by a one-night tryst that he was quite sure neither of them had considered before. It was somewhat true, but he didn't like this sense of defensive indignation that pulsed off the mech, shaded with something that looked like shame. "I'm not afraid of you, Starscream, nor did I fear that you were thinking about anything… inappropriate whilst we were working."

Starscream fixed upon the mech's stare with a frown, stepping away from the wall. "Get over yourself, Ratch'. We fragged, it was fun, life goes on." A cocked brow. "Are we done now?"

Clearly they were both embarrassed now, though Ratchet also felt guilty for the mood he seemed to have put the Seeker in and simply nodded, optics downcast. He'd anticipated Starscream to respond to him with his usual dry, intelligent wit, probably scoff and condescend for a while before finally closing the conversation on a serious tone. From spending so much time together since he'd defected and pledged allegiance to Tempest, and thus the Autobots, it was how he'd come to understand his character. Apparently he was wrong.

As Starscream came level with him heading towards the door, he impulsively raised a hand, uttering, "Wait." The mech paused and continued to watch him with that loaded stare as he approached, coming to stand opposite him. Ratchet forced his gaze back up. "I'm sorry, Starscream. I never meant to imply anything like that."

"What, that even though I've been fighting for your side for the past year that I'm still a filthy Decepticon whom you should be ashamed to have shared a berth with?" Starscream spat, armour tightening to close the vulnerable gaps through to his working parts and protoform.

Suppressing a sigh, Ratchet grimaced at the loathing in the tone and shook his head. "It's not like that. I've come to see you as a colleague, even as a friend, and -"

"And as a lover is such a repugnant thought to you that it's kept you awake and made you seek me out to confront me about it?" Starscream broke in venomously, taking a step forward to force the other mech back lest their bodies come into contact. "It's a mercy to you that you don't remember, because then you'd have to live with the fact that you started on me on top of everything else that's fritzing your processor."

Dimly, Ratchet felt himself gape. "… I, started?"

Starscream's mouth twisted and more steps were taken, rapidly backing Ratchet into the wall and pining him there with seething optics. "Yes, -you-." Abruptly, and eliciting a short gasp from the medic, he roughly grabbed Ratchet's wrists and pinned them to the wall level with his shoulders. "You got me like this, just inside the Medbay. I was making sure you didn't end up on one of your own plasma arcs before I went to my berth, and you grabbed me like this."

Ratchet stood frozen in place with wide optics, acutely aware of Starscream's hands restraining him and of how the glass of the mech's cockpit was just resting against his chassis rollbar.

Optics narrowed, Starscream's tone lilted into the thrumming croon he'd naturally favoured performing interrogations as his hands slid up from the unresisting wrists to rest over the medic's hands, interlacing his clawed fingers with Ratchet's. "You had my hands like this whilst you looked at me. These hands which have ended more lives than you've ever saved."

The medic's dentals clamped harder, a tremor passing through his frame.

"Which have drawn your weight in energon from Prime over the centuries."

Ratchet's voice came as a quiet hiss. "Stop it."

"Which have crushed spark casings torn from your comrade's chests."

His hands clenched into fists around Starscream's and he pushed back without success. "Shut up."

At the resistance Starscream closed the final slither of air between them, using his body to pin the slighter mech to the wall as well as his hands. "You looked at me with heat and questions, asking me to roam these hands over you and moaning when I obliged."

With renewed strength Ratchet shoved himself off the wall and twisted them sideways, ultimately slamming Starscream back in the same position he'd just been in. The exertion had made his engine growl, a corresponding sound returning from the Seeker's chassis. "I mean it, Starscream. Stop."

"You stop!" Starscream roared back, optics turned to slits so deep a hue of red that they appeared black. "Stop blaming me for something you're so fragging ashamed of when it was your fragging idea in the first place. It was just a frag – a good one that you can't let alone. I haven't asked for anything from you or tried to change things. You're the one obsessing and then trying to blame me as if I took advantage of you. I'm not sentimental over a frag like you are, but I'm not going to just stand here whilst you-"

Ratchet clamped his mouth over his to shut him up more than anything else.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Pulling back with a hot charge that swelled across his body, Ratchet glared at Starscream out of frustration with his system's own aroused response as much as with the Seeker's screeching. The rage evaporated from Starscream's features leaving contempt in its place, and his voice was dry. "You're moronic."

"Shut up, Screamer," Ratchet bit back, yielding to some deeper urge and finding Starscream's mouth meeting his halfway across the gap. Fingers tightening and fisting against the wall, both mechs shifted against each other and twitched when warm metal scraped hard.

Bewildered but finding that he didn't care beyond how his spark was pulsating at the moment, Ratchet pulled back from the other's mouth and met the red gaze with his own darkened one. "You're like a fragging drug, you know that?" he growled, relaxing his grip on the Seeker's hands to see where they would go.

Starscream gave an unkind smile, flexing his fingers against the wall before running his clawed thumbs down the sides of Ratchet's throat, skimming twin lines down to his hips where he pushed between armoured plates to the vulnerable protoform beneath. "Maybe I'll do you some good," he replied in a low reverb, flexing his fingers to trip over parts with no gentleness and feeling his own fans kick in at the sounds it elicited.

Trying to gather himself a little, Ratchet opened his optics and fixed his hands on Starscream's shoulders, pulling him forwards before slamming him back with a growl just as his body arched again from that incredible touch. "This isn't going to happen again."

The Seeker smirked and tipped his head, silently offering his mouth again as the medic's hands slid to the edges of his wings. A whined gasp he hadn't meant to vocalise escaped him. "That depends entirely on you," he replied when he'd found his voice again, just before another hard kiss.

* * *

We enter our shared quarters in a silence that denotes sombreness but is actually the result of the hot and cold prickles fluttering along our bond. Anticipation and wariness. Desire and uncertainty. The repetitive knock of Ironhide's unspoken question: are you sure?

He's not an emotionally articulate bot, which made the sparkbond more of a stabilisation of our relationship than a celebration of it. I never doubted his commitment, though. After centuries of knowing him I am as able to predict most of his behaviour as he is mine, but a romantic entanglement was unchartered territory, and his unpredictability in the realm of being lovers was as disquieting as it was exhilarating. The sparkbond, whilst doubling pleasure and granted the reassuring constant presence of a beloved 'Other', shed light on some of the unknown quantities of who he was whilst somehow allowing some of the mystery to survive.

I know from feeling him that he lies on his side facing me because his frontal sensors are better at close range than the ones of his back, and that even in deep recharge he gets a warm sense that he is not alone. If he does recharge alone, he lies on his back as I and most mechs do.

I know from touching the unshielded eddies beneath even his most incoherent desires that his doting sexual ministrations, his long-lingering hands and mouth past the point of reasonable patience, is not rooted in reverence at my supposedly being the living symbol of Primus himself, as I had worried. It is because his mental pleasure, quite separated from ports, cables and spark, is wholly parasitic. The most erotic thing he can do for himself is pleasure me, and was wholesparkedly so long before the bond and the sharing of sensation.

Such knowledge of him, exposure to a side that few could even guess at, humbles me and brings a warmth to my hands as I touch his neck when he abandons moving towards the berthroom to sit in the living area.

"At the risk of a foolish question," I broach, standing behind him to circle my thumb over a battered and frequently aching part, "What's on your mind?"

We have decided to have a sparkling. His answer could be any number of things. Sighing into my touch, Ironhide shutters his optics. "I don't want to hurt you."

Not what I was expecting and I laugh softly to myself because of it. "Of course not, but some discomfort is to be expected."

A dark hand slides up to cover mine though doesn't restrict my fingers, encouraging the small massage. Affirmation through contact. "All jokes aside, you had it hard with Tempest. Carrying gave you more suffering than it ought to have."

"Mechs aren't well designed for it," I agree softly, thinking briefly with a smile of Bluestreak and Luna. Sparkbearing has made the femme positively glow. As pleasing as their happiness is, I push the thought aside. It's only us here. "You're worried that bringing our sparkling into the world will cause me undue pain?"

A grumbled sigh and his optics open to fix on an unspecified point on the far wall. It's an expression that only looks stoic, but actually speaks of a tumultuous wave beneath his features.

"When Megatron forced a sparkling on you, it gave me another reason to hate him. A personal one. And every day I saw you and what was happening to you, I couldn't see the sparkling as anything more than a parasitic time bomb, and I hated it too."

My hand has fallen still of its own accord as I listen, my own optics narrowed and averted now as well.

He sighs through his vents, squeezes my hand on his neck. "Tempest's a good bot, and I'm as proud of him as I would be any of my own. But when he was just Megatron's sparkling forced on you, seeing you overclocked, underfueled and more vulnerable than I've ever known you because of giving up space and energy to it hurt. And I don't know how I'm going to feel about doing that to ya with ours. I know the sparkbond will help, but still I'm already feeling slagging guilty and it's not even happened yet."

Silence for long moments, him slipping into an anxious brood at my lack of response as I gather my thoughts. Finally I free my hand from his and come about the chair, kneeling to equalise our optics. "Ironhide," I start, sliding a hand to his knee to settle his gaze on mine. "I know we come from a long life of seeing pain as a necessary evil. Suffering as something to retaliate against. Scars as proud emblems of how we endured and fought back through pain. But 'Hide, not all pain is suffering, and not all hardship is to be avenged or unwelcomed. They will be what bringing our sparkling, yours and mine, into the world will entail. And I welcome it, as I hope you will come to as well."

His optics narrow in scrutiny, turning over the words before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. "Still, don't expect that I won't be fussin'."

I smile back with a quirked brow. "Oh, I'll be demanding as much, I assure you. Being a single creator meant no one to rub my backstrut."

A snort. "For starters."

I grin and bow my head, relishing the swell of warmth down the bond that has replaced the anxious prickles as he thinks on his role as caretaker. Doubtless no whim of mine would be considered too fanciful or extreme, though I have no intention of taking advantage of him beyond the necessities.

Still... It's been centuries since I last had a hot oil soak.

A touch to my hand resting on his knee brings me out of my reverie. When I look up I see that the soft smile has morphed into a more predatory smirk. My spark gives a hot little pulse as his optics glint on the doorway to the berthroom.

"Shall we?"

* * *

The taller mech rumbled a soft sound of agreement and rose to his feet, leading the way. Optimus had barely reached the berth before he found himself spun and thrown back onto its padded surface. A short laugh at the unexpected enthusiasm evaporated when Ironhide crawled up onto the berth, his optics dark with intent. Now that the last concerns had been addressed, he –wanted- this.

Braced over the slimmer mech, Ironhide brought his mouth down to plates usually hidden by the iconic mask, laying a trail of charged blue sparks. :You know, I'm not quite sure what I'm doing.: he sent quietly over the bond, watching the blue webs of electricity from his kisses ripple out minutely before fading on the metal.

Optimus slid a hand to the mech's hip, trailing the cracks and crevices in the thick armour that he knew to bear sensory treasures. :Don't worry, the data's there. We've just never used it before.:

A reverberating hum and Ironhide rested more of his weight down, straddling his partner's hips. Across the bond their neural feeds synchronised, waxing and waning rhythmical heat as their hands roamed and vents growled.

This was going to take a lot of energy, they both knew, and Ironhide drew back when their engines had both reached that familiar throaty note that spoke of more than lust. Sliding back the cover at the base of his pelvis to expose his interface panel, where cables lurked like electronic stamen around his recessed ports, he blindly hooked the most charged and fed it across the narrow space between their bodies. A pulsing heat guided his unseeing fingers to Optimus's exposed panel whilst his mouth remained locked, foreshadowing the second physical connection.

A short whine unwittingly escaped Optimus's vocals when the corresponding port was bypassed as Ironhide sought one set back deeper in his panel. One he'd never used before.

:Not that one: the older mech crooned, glossa withdrawing to grit his dentals in concentration. :That one.:

The lurch of power made him buck, naturally thrusting his panel into Ironhide's and triggering the remaining connectors to latch onto each other and complete the woven bridge. Automatically their chest plates spun and slammed open without any of the usual teasing slowness.

Any thoughts of seducing them into the final critical exchange were shattered in Ironhide's mind, moaning hard as his processor was overwhelmed, clogged and cleared in turn by the unrelenting waves of ecstasy. Logically, interfacing with intent to reproduce was going to feel better than to otherwise, as a natural incentive to propagate as a species. But surely, the scrap of Ironhide's mind that held fleeting coherent thought gasped, no bot could survive this feeling.

Optimus, by contrast, had no capacity to think coherently at all. He saw white, felt every minute part of him electrified with pleasure - even those that had no business being so – and was keenly aware of a spike of something else leading into his core, like electricity seeking ground. The line from the port connected to Ironhide swelled and stiffened before the first crack of data. The second activated dormant subroutines that began transforming the minute parts in his chassis to make room and prepare for the new infant spark. The third crack made him instinctively grab Ironhide's flexing shoulders to crash their chassis together, sparks merging in a loud and furious joining.

Finally, Ironhide felt his spark swell and something tiny but huge – like a tear in the glossa – splinter off painlessly and fall into the halo of his lover's soul. Deaf and blind to the world outside of this singing passing of data and spark, Ironhide found unconsciousness swelling over him with the warmth of thick High Grade. Sagging as all his hydraulics went out at once, he dimly felt Optimus's hand struggle up to cup his helm before his chestplates inched closed and he fell into recharge.

* * *

My chronometer alerts me to a time lapse of three hours and eighteen minutes the moment I come back online, and the blissful feeling of overload feels a long way away. Pinching my closed optics, I catalogue the complaints. My interface port and a few lines leading off of it ache like they've been overheated and shorted. Inside my chassis there is a general busyness that's slowing down as components are rehomed, though despite my body's efforts it's still tightly packed and some of it will have to come out temporarily. Finally, there's a weight on me that's pressing down on both areas and bringing no little discomfort.

"Ironhide."

A light stroke of a hand over my windshield and an acknowledging kiss.

I sigh and open my optics to regard the ceiling. "I love you very much, but kindly get off of me."

There's a rumbled chuckle before he rolls off obligingly, propping himself up on his elbow to regard me. "Sore?"

I sit up with a hand pressed to my chassis, which feels like it's full of loose and disconnected parts. "Somewhat."

A completely insufferable grin. "Figured you might be. Made a hell of a racket. Red Alert thought you were being murdered."

A hand goes to cover my face habitually. "Primus…"

His fingers ghost across my helm and graze soothing strokes to my left antenna. "Once he figured out I was in here with you he just sulked off swearing." The smug tone leaves his voice. "You okay?"

"I could recharge for a week, but yes." I open my optics and find him watching me, his expression warm.

"Did we do it?" He tips his head, voice soft and cautious. "Can you feel anything?"

My systems feel sluggish and I rest my weight back through my hands to remain upright. Drained as I am, though, I can feel a warm presence of something beneath my spark chamber. It's tiny, much smaller than the sliver Megatron placed in me a year ago in its infancy, but already hungrily drawing on power to establish itself. To Ironhide's watchful gaze I merely nod, though smiling.

His hand moves to cup my jaw and tip my mouth into his. Against my lips he rumbles a laugh. "I plugged ya."

"Yes," I agree slowly, arching a brow. What is the expression the humans use? "You the mech."

A barked laugh and Ironhide gives a brief, hard kiss before sliding off the berth. "I'm gonna get you some energon."

"No, you're going to go swagger," I correct evenly, lying back with a sigh and bringing my knees up a little to align my backstrut whilst my systems continue to whirr and pop. "Be sure to inform Ratchet. No doubt he'll want to put half my backup systems into storage as soon as possible."

His footfalls sound towards the door. "Yeah, 'cos my sparkling's gonna be a big bot."

"No doubt." The door closes and I shutter my rolled optics. Before I can feel any real irritation at his smugness, albeit amused, my systems wind back down towards recharge again. I remember to set an alarm for an hour's time, for when my duty shift begins, though it's debateable how productive I'm going to be today.


	4. Chapter 4

_The end of this is for Phoenix13._

_

* * *

_

Family Matters

_Chapter Four_

A week passed before Optimus's purging grace period was up, the discomfort of conception finally giving way to nausea and a heavy ache in his chassis. Speaking to Ratchet, he'd found that Megatron had spared him a significant energy drain when he'd implanted him with the haploid spark that eventually became Tempest. Though he'd anticipated that it would take a great deal of power to create a unique life from a surge, he hadn't expected such a tax on his systems and was only thankful that he could still intake energon without disruption to combat it. No sooner had the protoform-deep weariness left him, though, than the purging began.

It lingered like a shadow at first, threatening uncomfortably and typically outside the privacy of his quarters or office. This morning, the cold swell seized his tanks as he'd begun crossing the yard towards the NEST briefing hanger ten minutes after his first cube of the day. Backtracking as inconspicuously as possible, he just made it around the corner of the hanger before the fuel backed up in hard shudders onto the ground.

When the fit finally passed he straightened and pressed a hand to his optics, gathering his composure. Mercifully Ironhide was distracted enough on the target range not to pick up on the sensation of the bond despite how poorly he'd managed to obfuscate it.

"Are you alright, Sir?"

The light female voice was tentative, wholly matching the expression on Luna's face when Optimus turned to face her. The movement caused his equilibrium sensors to tilt and he pressed his optics again though forced a small, reassuring smile. "The pleasantries of sparkbearing," he replied by way of an explanation, trying to will the ground to keep still beneath his feet.

"Ah, yes. Ironhide told me. You'd think he'd rebuilt Cybertron from how proud he is. I haven't had a chance to offer you my congratulations." Noting his frozen stance, as if fearful that any movement would trigger another purging spell, Luna closed the space between them and offered a sympathetic smile. "The first cube of the day's the worst, isn't it?"

Optimus sighed through his vents, finally bringing his fingers down from his optic shutters now that the world had stopped pitching about. "I find them to be as bad as each other, but then I'm at a comparable disadvantage."

Finding this common ground a strange kind of reassurance that Prime was also a bot struggling with sparkbearing as well as the effigy of Primus, Luna stepped closer to him. "Mechs aren't designed with this in mind, no. I find that sitting in sun helps," she suggested gently, a smile creeping onto her features.

Nodding slightly, Optimus looked to the pool of undigested energon with a frown. Before he could begin considering how best to clean it up, Luna interrupted with a soft click. "Ah, we can't take all the 'pleasantries' for ourselves. This is the sort of thing Sires are for."

Though he was inclined to ignore the suggestion and clean up the mess he'd made, a significant part of him just wanted to sit down and let Ironhide put his 'fussing' to good use. Scuffing dirt over the patch so that it wasn't an immediate fire hazard, Optimus retreated away a few paces before sitting back against the hanger.

At his arched optic Luna followed, coming to sit beside him with an internal flutter at his presence. Since arriving she hadn't been able to take on any of the easiness Bluestreak had around the Prime, despite his reassurances that Optimus didn't like his subordinates be in any way intimidated by him. Now though, hearing his systems pop with stale heat from the arduous task of building the sparkling's protoform skeleton and his vents sigh at a sickly weariness she could wholly relate to, he didn't seem intimidating at all. He still silently garnered respect, though, and held a regal aura even sat against a wall after purging. She found her optics lingering on his unusually exposed face where the battlemask was retracted, surprised by the myriad of thick scars that crossed his mouth and jaw. The wounds would doubtless have been gruesome when they were fresh, and she only realised she was staring when his optics shifted down to her.

Luna hastily averted her gaze, systems tightening as she rested her hands on the distorted metal about her abdomen. "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to stare."

"It's alright. I know it's something of a curiosity," Optimus replied smoothly, resisting the urge to slide the mask back and focussing on the warmth radiating onto his plates. Luna had been right about it helping – his systems were soothed by the heat though the ache in his chassis didn't abate. Thoughtful, he traced his thumb through a creased scar beneath his jaw that led into a slight dip the width of the digit. "It was during my first engagement with Megatron. He saw fit to try and pull my jaw off. After that, the mask became habitual."

"A wise precaution," she commented softly though didn't bring her optics back up. A moment later there was the _schlucht_ of the battle mask sliding into place, returning the familiar profile and signifying that the nausea had eased.

Comfortable silence fell between them, though Optimus remained aware that the NEST meeting was due to start soon. It wasn't the only thing occupying his attention, though, and he pinched the space between his optics again with a sigh. "I want a rust stick."

Luna smirked despite herself with an amused sound, knowing full well the frustration of craving something that no longer existed. "Something else we have in common."

Optimus almost admitted that at that moment he'd take the sweet treat over a stop to the purging, but cut himself off when Prowl's shadow appeared in front of them. With an apologetic glance to Luna, he made to get to his feet.

Prowl held up a hand. "I just came to tell you that the meeting's been rescheduled on your behalf."

A low, openly irritated sound. "I wasn't aware I had a secretary," he murmured, hoping that Ironhide was receiving the internal emotional glower.

"You don't," Prowl drawled, one optic ridge arching. "You have Ironhide as a sparkmate, who could tell you've been purging and me. Come on: I'm under orders to take you to Ratchet, or as much of orders as Ironhide thinks he can give me."

"Ratchet won't do anything about purging unless it becomes severe enough to be a problem," Optimus replied flatly. "Much as Ironhide may want to treat sparkbearing's every discomfort as a problem, I am under no such allusions and shan't be going to Ratchet with complaints."

The tactician smiled thinly. "That's as maybe, but the meeting's still cancelled and you're not going to be able to stop 'Hide from being overprotective even if the little one brings you no significant discomfort."

Luna offered something like a long-suffering look to the big mech. "Bluestreak's almost as bad, but he hasn't stopped me working. He's happy just to have me see Ratchet every few days and to keep him in the loop with how things are."

"I suspect Ironhide won't be happy until I'm encased in bubblewrap," Optimus replied in a tone close to grousing, earning a suppressed chuckle from the yellow femme.

Prowl bowed his head, disguising a grin. "And I'll leave you to take that up with him. Good day to you both."

As the tactician left, visibly glad to be relieved of his 'duty' to transport the mech to Ratchet, Optimus rested his head back against the wall and shuttered his optics. "If Ironhide doesn't cease to interfere like this, he may not live to see his sparkling."

* * *

Wheeljack's gift to Tempest had been the Cybertronian equivalent of a remote control car – a hover-car, specifically, the size of an oil drum and just as aesthetically pleasing. Its entertainment factor came in its ability to trail coloured smoke as it sped noisily about, running from a chunky controller and solar power. Its more significant entertainment factor was that Wheeljack had built two. Optimus had banned their use inside the Base after a minute's exposure left him with a pounding processor, so Tempest and Bumblebee stood racing the toys between the trees on top of the bluff.

Bumblebee had started to bring up the news of the new sparkling but trailed off when it became clear that Tempest was deeply uncomfortable about the topic. Though the scout had wanted to draw him out and find out what was wrong, Tempest had been steadfast about concentrating on racing. Clearly, though, his attention had been split, for after ten minutes an overly ambitious overtaking manoeuvre had sent both hover-cars crashing off course and into a tree. Which had promptly caught fire.

"I knew this was too good to be true," Bumblebee groaned, setting the controller to the ground and moving to tear the tree up by its roots to prevent its neighbours from catching alight. "Anything from Wheeljack was bound to cause some kind of disaster."

Watching the yellow mech extinguish the flames with tactical use of his powerful vents, Tempest folded his arms and scuffed his feet anxiously. "My Sire's going to kill me."

"Your Sire wouldn't harm you even if Primus himself ordered it," Starscream's unique drawl came from behind them as the mech ascended the bluff, having been surreptitiously watching the youngsters and running over when the fire started. Coming to Tempest's side, he considered the scout grinding the smouldering wood into the ground with his foot. "You, on the other hand, don't have the same odds."

"Thanks Starscream," came the muttered reply as Bumblebee finished putting the fire out, looking up and offering Tempest a small smile. "Don't worry about it, Tem'. It was an accident, and Wheeljack won't mind. Most of his stuff blows up at some point anyway, which just means he gets to work on the second version of it right away."

When Tempest said nothing, merely shifting his weight uncomfortably with downcast optics, Starscream made a shooing gesture with one hand to the other mech. Bumblebee hesitated before finally nodding, acknowledging that in a queer way the former Decepticon was the best one to talk to Tempest about whatever was bothering him.

There was no sound aside from the faint murmur of their systems until Bumblebee had gone inside Wheeljack's hanger at one end of the cluster of buildings, Tempest half-willing the older Seeker to leave and Starscream patiently waiting him out. Sensing that it wasn't that Tempest didn't want to talk because he was still here, but was uncertain as to how to start, Starscream finally took the initiative. "You'll have a sibling in six weeks."

Tempest scoffed, an entirely alien sound from him that made Starscream arch a brow. The large sparkling shook his head, red optics averted. "Not really. _Sire_ and Ironhide will have a real sparkling, and I'll just be another mech to train."

The musical inflection of the sparkling's name for Optimus held a note of sadness that Starscream hadn't heard before, and he nudged the smaller mech's arm. "The frame you're in doesn't change who you are."

Bloody optics darkened with a frown, face plates tightening. "No, it suits me as a soldier. As the unwanted product of an assault by Megatron who lived up to expectations by making my first kill at four months old."

Starscream nodded slightly, accepting the point with all seriousness. He lay a hand on the young mech's shoulder to bring his gaze up, his voice soft. "You were born into a war, literally onlining in the middle of a battle. Your Sire has done the best he could to protect you when all the choices were unfavourable, and that was always out of love. He wanted you from the start regardless of how you were conceived. Don't define yourself by Megatron's sins."

Tempest sighed, tension slipping out of his joints as stale heat. "I know." Starscream left the silence to grow between them, leaving his words to sink into the youngster's processor. Finally rubbing his fingers across his helm with a sigh, Tempest offered a vaguely embarrassed smile. "It's just a big change, I guess."

The Seeker breathed a laugh, finger's tightening on the broad shoulder. "Prime'll still be letting you lie in his lap to watch television, and find Duck for you when he goes missing. New sparklings don't displace old ones." A thin smile. "You'll have someone to protect and mentor, which is a far cry from Megatron and very like your Sire. You have a choice about what kind of bot you are, whatever your past."

A nod before Tempest cocked his head, regarding Starscream again. He'd only ever known him to be on the Autobot side, but he was perfectly aware of his long and bloody history as a Decepticon. Though there was a sharp edge to his voice and movements that spoke of a skilled and unrelenting fighter, he couldn't see anything in his guardian that evidenced his past. Feeling now more than ever that he was struggling to set aside his own past misdeeds, his curiosity about Starscream's past was immense. Finally, he broached, "Like what you did?"

Starscream retracted his hand with a step back, folding his arms. "I'm a defector, but I don't consider my past to be a mistake."

Not phased by the older mech's body language, Tempest pressed, "There're things you're ashamed of though."

"Some," he agreed evenly, shifting his weight on his wide feet. "But it's never too late to change."

Tempest took a step forward, restoring his proximity. "Why did you change?"

"I was tired of this war being endless, and I didn't want Megatron to get his hands on you." Starscream fixed the sparkling with a long look, before admitting, "Being your guardian's… one of the better things I've done."

A warm smile and Tempest felt some of the anxiety that had been churning his tanks over the last week ease. Clearly the topic was closed, so he simply murmured, "Thank you."

Starscream gave a rough half shrug, moving to pick up the discarded controllers and motioning for Tempest to start making his way down the bluff towards the Base. "You'll understand when that new sparkling comes. It'll look to you to be an example."

Unseen as he followed a step behind the older Seeker, Tempest grinned at the prospect. "I'll do my best."

* * *

It was four in the morning when an alert from the monitor room sounded in Optimus's finial, and he was wide awake to receive it finding recharge eluding him. The last week had passed quietly and there was nothing significant to trouble in his processor. However, whilst Ironhide slept peacefully beside him, he fidgeted with tight pangs in his chassis – cramps in his system as the sparkling drew out its skeletal protoform from materials harvested around it. It hadn't hurt this much with Tempest, but then the nausea was nowhere near as severe with this sparkling. Ratchet had warned him that every carriage was different and just to keep him informed. He hadn't wanted to bother the medic at this late hour, though, nor disturb anyone else by walking the Base. There was also a comfort in lying with his sparkmate, so he'd stayed put as the cramps went on.

To the chirp he responded internally, not wanting to disturb Ironhide. _Prime here. What is it, Red Alert?_

_Sorry to disturb you, Sir,_ the anxious mech replied quickly. _But we've just picked up an incoming Autobot on the monitors. Expected arrival eighty miles North of us, in approximately fifty minutes._

Optimus sat up and swung his legs over the berth, grimacing when the change in position magnified the pains. Pausing, he absently pressed at the thick plates. _Do you know who it is?_

_It's Ultra Magnus, Sir_. Red Alert's audio smile wasn't a match to the Prime's at that. _He sent out a transmission and closed communications to conserve power._

_Understood. Inform Ratchet and request that he bring a supply of energon. We roll out in five minutes. Prime out._

Getting off the berth completely was enough to wake Ironhide, and the older mech propped himself up with narrowed optics. "Everything alright?"

Optimus nodded, optics bright and downcast as he emailed a notification to the various authorities. After a moment he blinked out of the connection and smiled at the other mech. "Ultra Magnus is arriving in a little under an hour."

"Magnus?" Ironhide echoed with a grin, his systems cycling up fully at the news. He slid off the berth and came about to Optimus, his face shifting into a frown when he felt the corrosive ache echo across the bond in time with a minute shift in the tall mech's stance. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," came the automatic response to his sparkmate's fussing as Optimus made for the door.

Ironhide caught him by the hand. "Don't 'nothing' me," he replied evenly, his optics roaming over the mech's body. "If you're going out to meet Magnus – which you will – you're having at least a cube before you leave."

It was an effort not to roll his optics. "'Hide, my energy levels are fine."

A smirk. "Don't care. You're having one." He promptly left Optimus at the door and returned with a cube of energon, holding it out expectantly.

Knowing that he didn't have a choice in the matter, Optimus took the cube and downed it, pinching his optics against the swell of nausea afterwards. "You're worse than Ratchet."

"I'd hope so," Ironhide rumbled softly, setting the empty cube aside. "He's not your sparkmate."

"True," Optimus replied with a smile, expression softening out of irritation completely. Though overbearing, Ironhide's fussing and nagging was rooted in love and concern, and it was unfair to begrudge him even if it irritated him beyond reason sometimes.

As expected, Ironhide followed him out and to the main hanger where Bumblebee and Ratchet were already waiting. The medic had a large energon canister affixed to his back, and Bumblebee was quite obviously excited. Optimus wondered briefly if anyone recharged through the night anymore.

"It'll be good to see Magnus again," the yellow mech beamed, the gaps in his armour revealing transformation cogs twitching to leave.

"He'll be a most welcomed presence," Optimus agreed, glancing to Ironhide. "Is everyone read to go?"

Short nods and Ratchet raised his hand. "Starscream and Tempest are still out for the firework show and near his landing site. They're set to meet us there."

"Hopefully they won't give Wheeljack any ideas," Optimus murmured as he moved towards the open doorway, gritting his dentals against a fresh wave of cramps as he began to transform.

"You'd hope so, wouldn't you," Ratchet replied archly before transforming himself, the energon tank shifting to affix to his alt form's roof rack.

As they headed out into the crisp air, the horizon beginning to glow with the encroaching dawn, Ironhide pulled in close to the Peterbilt. :If those pains get worse, tell the Doc.:

The truck's windshield wipers flicked, indignant. :What makes you think that I haven't already?:

A rumbled laugh down the bond. :'Cause he hasn't made you stay at the Base.:

:I take your point.:

* * *

Ultra Magnus emerged from the crater of his landing with slow, deliberate steps, kneeling atop the piled and scorched earth to scan over his surroundings. He detected Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet and Bumblebee close by, though his weary smile was short-lived as he picked up two more incoming signals from the opposite direction. One he didn't recognise, but the other triggered his massive weapons array to come bristling to life. The Seekers were mere seconds out of weapons range, bearing down on this field that offered no cover to him.

He waited until they were almost overhead, frowning as they exposed their undercarriages to him but not wasting the opportunity to fire. By the time the Seekers banked back around, injured or not, the other Autobots would be close enough to join in the engagement. Opting for the unknown plane over Starscream, he fired his first volley.


	5. Chapter 5

Family Matters

_Chapter Five_

"So what's Ultra Magnus like?"

The two Seekers had been out all afternoon travelling to a fireworks extravaganza in Vegas and had been on their way back to the Base when notification of the bot's arrival had come through. Throughout, Tempest had found Starscream to be good if somewhat distracted company. Whilst talking through the more trying events of the last year and speculating on what life would be like when there were two more sparklings on the Base, Starscream had been responsive but clearly uneasy. Now, skimming the bottom of the clouds as they flew towards the landing site, it took a few seconds for Tempest's question to register.

"Diligent," he replied at last, shifting to fly alongside the Harrier from where he had been just above. "About as loyal an Autobot as you could ever find. Well armed, good shooter and a steadying presence within any group. Command material without the desire for command, I think."

Rocking a little to playfully disturb the air currents flowing over his wings, Tempest made a thoughtful sound. "I didn't realise you knew him so well."

A short, dismissive sound. "I knew all of the Autobots without exchanging more than insults and firepower with them. It's been centuries of 'know your enemy', Tempest. No doubt I know more about some of them than they'd like, or even realise." A bemused shunt of an airbrake. "I always figured Magnus for Prime over Ironhide. They were close – close enough that it might have gone somewhere in time."

"Sort of like what's happened with you and Ratchet, you mean?" Tempest asked lightly.

Starscream dropped a few juddering feet as if he'd hit turbulence. "What in the slagging pit are you talking about, youngling?"

The Harrier sank to match his altitude. "Geez, what crawled up your tailpipe and died? I think it's nice."

"It's not…" The elder Seeker cut himself off with an irritated sigh across the radio. "There's nothing serious going on. Friends we might be, but we… You're too young to understand."

Tempest swung up close enough to almost crack Starscream's wing. "Don't do that, Scree. Everyone else treats me like I have a tiny processor and that I'm too young to understand anything, but I see and get more than they think. Like I can see you're not having as many nightmares since you started seeing Ratchet like this, and he's just as antsy about it as you are. You're both scared of letting it turn into something because you're both scared of getting found out."

A long pause as Starscream turned the words over and the landing place of the new arrival came into sensor range. Finally, with feigned irritation: "Shut up, Tempest."

A hummed laugh. "You know I'm right. I won't say anything, but if you guys would just admit to each other what's going on and talk about it, then-"

"Move!"

Starscream had shoved sideways into Tempest's wing to drive him out of line of fire, but the attacking mech was already compensating and sent a long stream of laser blasts across the Harrier's undercarriage. With a pained grunt Tempest dived at a hideous speed, using thrust vectoring at the last moment to level out and transform before he hit the ground. When he did he hit it running, keeping the thick armour of his chassis flared to cover the gaps to his protoform and returning fire with the huge shoulder cannon as he bore down on the mech. Ultra Magnus kept firing, though his attention was now largely on Starscream, who was trailing smoke from his scorched wings as he positioned to land between Tempest and the new bot.

Landing in a skidded trench on his feet, Starscream held one hand up against Tempest and fixed the nul ray of his other on Magnus. "Cease fire! We're on your side, you stupid Autobot!"

"Not a tactic I've heard lately," Magnus called back, optics narrowing as his weapons cycled with furious heat. He looked between the two Seekers, now standing beside one another, and wondered what they were trying to lure him into. The crimson gazes gave nothing away, and seemed nonchalant of the approaching engines of the other Auotbots. Hesitation cost when it came to Starscream,though, so he cast his wariness aside to unleash another volley.

* * *

The miles slid away easily in the dawn, the Autobots' paces fast but unhurried as Prime managed their speed to arrive just after Ultra Magnus was due to land. Optimus particularly was enjoying the drive, finding that the steady rumble of tarmac was dispelling the pains in his chassis and allowing him to stretch out some components that had felt underused over the last few weeks. Despite these comforts, however, Ironhide remained diligent and close to his side, though felt largely content across the bond.

Everyone slowed for a hairpin detour around a human settlement, as if the engineers designing the road realised at the last moment that they were tarmac-ing towards a town hall, and Ironhide pulled in close to his sparkmate as they accelerated again. :So, you gonna tell me what's going on with you and 'Pest?:

A throaty sound from the big engine, warily thoughtful rather than irritated. :You mean how he's been avoiding speaking to me?:

Ironhide's wipers flickered in a proxy nod. :That's the one.:

Optimus mentally smiled a little. :I can't. He's been avoiding speaking to me.:

:Funny: the Topkick drawled back, falling back when he detected an oncoming car to fall behind Optimus in the correct lane.

:Honestly, 'Hide, I don't know.: A pause as he thought, wondering if he'd left things to go on too long. He hadn't wanted to 'confront' Tempest as if he were a misbehaving soldier. All sparklings needed a certain degree of space and patience to work through things for themselves before they would accept anyone else interfering. Indeed, some bots never got passed that stage and just hated being interfered with in general. :I can only guess that it is related to our coming sparkling. His reclusiveness coincides with its revelation.:

Driving a few feet ahead of Ratchet's bumper, Ironhide scanned over his smeared reflection on the back of the truck's cab. They could both use a wax, it seemed. :Sounds about right. You should talk to him, or make him talk to you.:

A vaguely exasperated sound across the bond. :I can't order my son to talk to me if he doesn't feel he can yet.:

:Of course you can,: Ironhide rumbled as the car finally passed and he could move back into the wrong lane to drive alongside his sparkmate. :Just as his Prime let alone as his Sire.:

The wiper-flick was one of irritation now, the movement a bit faster. :Confronting him may only drive him further away. He still speaks to Starscream and spends much time with Bumblebee, so he has not isolated himself. I trust that he will come to me in his own time.:

Ironhide moved a few inches closer though was mindful not to trade paint with the truck. It mirrored how he would put a hand to Optimus if they weren't in vehicle mode at present. :You assume that he's going to be like you, and turn everything over in his processor for a while before he speaks to anyone else about it. But he's not. 'Pest may look like he's in his fourth frame, but he should still be in his sparkling case. He stills needs looking after even if he thinks he doesn't, or shouldn't, so the best you can do is sit him down and talk to him straight. Younglings can think that they're more emotionally independent than they are, so when they get bogged down they need an adult to make the first move.:

No component moved as Optimus digested that, slowing to come over a rise and the final short leg of their journey. :That's… good advice, thank you. Forgive me, but I never thought you'd say anything like that.:

Ironhide arched on his suspension a little, proud. :Well, I -am- going to be a creator soon. Been talking to Will about the whole parenting thing.:

A soft chuckle bubbled across the bond. :With results, I see.:

There was a flash of light on the horizon, far brighter than the sun's reflection off metal could be. Their sensors latched onto it instantly.

:Do you see that?: Ironhide asked as the stuttered light came again, though he was certain that everyone in their convoy had.

Optimus's engine growled as he put on speed, accelerating fast enough to leave Ratchet momentarily lagging. :Magnus is firing his weapons.:

_Decepticons? _Bumblebee's voice came across the radio, his own engine roaring as he came off-road to come in-line with Prime.

They were close enough to hear the engagement clearly, now, though Optimus's sensors had already told him enough. He answered shifting into a lower gear, suppressing a grunt as the violent shunt forced out an even greater speed. :Worse.:

* * *

The ground spitting up scorched earth about his feet didn't bother him. It was a deadly familiarity as he fixed his nul ray on Ultra Magnus. What he was sincerely nonplussed by was the hesitance that had seized him. This Autobot didn't know he'd defected and didn't know who or what Tempest was. Magnus was firing in mistaken self-defence, and a niggling part of him was reluctant to fire back upon him because of it, especially as Tempest was perfectly safe behind the shield of his body and his own purpose-built armour. A conscience had been festering in his processor, it seemed, and now the cancerous growth was stilling his weapons.

The hesitation lasted half a second before he finally gritted his dentals and willed it away, narrowing his aim to take out Magnus's weapons. Exploding the end off a mini-cannon, Starscream rolled aside with Tempest to dodge the retaliatory volley just as a new voice bellowed across the site.

"Magnus, stand down!"

* * *

I trust Ironhide to get to Magnus as he obediently lowers his weapons, continuing to run for the Seekers a little way past him. Tempest kneels with his optics and weapons trained on Magnus, grimacing against peppered scorches down his side and leg. He looks to me with relief, though there is a cold shadow of aggression throughout his frame.

Kneeling, I rest a hand on his shoulder in as much a comfort to him as to myself. A quick scan reassures me that the marks are largely cosmetic, and I send a brief transmission to Ratchet and Bumblebee to give me a moment. Though he is covering it, Tempest is scared. "Are you alright?"

A curt nod but I will not be dismissed by his silence. Finally his gaze drops, uneasy, and he leans into my hand a little. "Yes _Sire_, I'm fine."

Now that my panicked concern has begun to abate, curdling guilt creeps about my spark. "I'm sorry, Tempest. This shouldn't have happened. Magnus had no way of knowing-"

"I'm sorry," he breaks in, touching a hand briefly to mine to silence me. "It was my idea to meet him here. I just wanted to stay out with Scree a little longer. I didn't mean to have to fire at Magnus."

I offer a smile, surprised he even feels guilty for defending himself. "I know you didn't. You were protecting yourself."

Starscream gets to his feet with a creak of metal, sliding his hands onto his hips as he regards my sparkling. "I should have sent you away when he opened fire on us."

Tempest's optics narrow with his retort. "I wasn't going to leave you."

A smirk, quite typical of the bot. "I can handle myself, Tempest."

Before Tempest can respond I hold up a hand to them. "Alright, both of you, let Ratchet check you over for his peace of mind as much as mine." I look to Tempest after standing and giving him room to do the same. "We'll talk back at the Base."

Tempest gives me a short nod, not quite meeting my optics, before Starscream touches his elbow and they move towards the medic together. My spark throbs tight with concern and still thrumming from my near-panicked run to him. Before I can give in to the urge to follow and speak to my uneasy sparkling, I feel an alerting pulse from Ironhide.

:Better get over here. Magnus is starting to lose that calm we like.:

Resolved to speak to Tempest later, I cross the thirty paces to where my sparkmate has a hand on Magnus's chassis in a gesture of restraint. Magnus, concordantly, looks bewildered as to why we haven't shot Starscream and still battle-keen to do so himself. The Roman army reportedly had their soldiers walk through a low archway of swords when they returned home from battle. Their general stood at the end where the soldier stood again, and if the bloodlust was still in his eyes the soldier would be immediately executed. There is always a risk of bringing violence home.

Ironhide steps aside for me and Magnus straightens into parade rest. I extend a hand to his arm. "Magnus, it is good to see you again, old friend. I'm sorry that you arrived… ill informed. There have been significant changes in a short space of time on this world."

An 'understatement' grunt from Ironhide. "Yeah, for one Screamer's shot Megatron in the back and brought the Seekers to our side."

:'Hide…:

:What? I'm helping.:

Magnus nods vaguely, optics brightening as he processes that. Finally he gives a thin smile. "Defection happens, Prime, and it's a mercy for one such as Starscream to be the one to do so." A long look to the Seeker now being checked over by Ratchet before he returns his attention to me. "I also bring good news. The Decepticons at Denias have been driven out, and with the semi-automated defence satellites in place, it's taking very little effort to safeguard the recaptured territory."

Denias was a Cybertronian outpost before the war, designed for research and data processing. It is comfortably habitable with a pre-prepared and now maintained energon source. "We may have a new homeworld for when this war is over," I conclude aloud, feeling some knot in my chassis that I was no longer aware of ease.

"We may," Magnus echoes with a broader smile, crossing his arms. "And I have more good news." He glances between Ironhide and myself in a way that makes us both shift minutely. "Elita One and Chromia are en route. I intercepted a communication from them a diun ago stating that they were rejoining you."

:Slag.:

I give Ironhide a surreptitious glance. :It wont be so bad.:

Ironhide glares back. :Oh really? Were the last things you said to Elita professions of your everlasting love?:

:… Perhaps.:

My sparkmate casts his optics upwards though remains outwardly silent. :Slag it, I honestly thought that Chromia was gone.:

I send warmth across the bond to ease him, though the balm does little for the hot prickles of anxiety that feed back from his end. :It changes nothing, 'Hide. I am bonded to you, and gladly. We are having a sparkling. And, it has been a very long time. Who's to say that the femmes haven't moved on themselves?:

"Optimus?:

I blink out of the bond, refocusing on the waiting soldier. "I'm sorry, Magnus. That is, of course, wonderful news."

He makes a thoughtful sound, watching something past me. I turn to find Tempest staring at me whilst Ratchet performs a minor weld on his leg. His ruby optics snap down as soon as he realises I'm watching.

"They truly are Autobots," the big mech murmurs. "Primus, the way you ran to stop the fight."

Ironhide shifts his feet and crosses his arms. "Well yeah, the little'un's Optimus's kid."

Magnus stiffens, optics wide.

I give my sparkmate a sharp look. :Not helping.:

He has the grace to look chastised. :Sorry.:

"Yours?" Magnus finally asks, quiet and tight. His stare burns into mine. "But Optimus, his optics…"

Ironhide grimaces. "That's because Megatron-"

"Hide!"

It's not a tone I use often and it makes him jump suitably. Magnus seems to be frozen with shock. Finally the horrendous silence breaks. "Prime, is Megatron the other creator of your sparkling?"

I sigh and touch a hand to my helm, loathe to venture into such a delicate topic in the middle of a field without any planning. "Yes, but-"

Suddenly he takes hold of my arm, expression one of earnest rage. "Tell me he is still online, Optimus, so that I may destroy him for what he did to you."

A frown and I hold his wrist in return, peripherally sensing my sparkmate coming to stand beside me between Magnus and Tempest. "There is nothing to avenge. Calm yourself, Magnus."

His optics narrow to slits and he shakes his head, uncomprehending. "But without your consent…"

"Exactly what I said."

I turn on him with a glare. "Enough Ironhide!" There was more in my voice processor, but a pain like all the ones that had come before combined lances through my chassis and leaves me staggering, seizing Ironhide's shoulder in a deathgrip.

He kneels with supporting hands to my chassis and back, guiding me down. "Optimus?"

I make a dismissive gesture though my dentals are gritted hard enough to crack. "Just a spasm. I shouldn't have run like that."

Ironhide looks up to bellow, "Ratchet, get your aft over here!"

Willing the residual tendrils of pain away, I concentrate on the tiny being growing beneath my plates and instinctively find it unharmed. That reassurance is enough to ease the burn in my taught and twitching lines. "It's fine, 'Hide. It's almost passed already."

Magnus kneels, ducking his head to meet my optics with an azure blue thick with concern. "What's going on?"

I give Ironhide a sidelong look and raised brow. This can definitely wait until we're back at the Base and Magnus has been refuelled and rested. :Not a word, 'Hide. Not like this.:

His mouth quirks in a smile and his brow mirrors mine. :Just tryin' to help.:

* * *

They had to wait for a suitably massed vehicle to pass on the road for Ultra Magnus to scan, the darkly coloured freightliner that finally drove by fuelled and ready to go minutes later. The Seekers flew on ahead of the ground-based vehicles, leaving Magnus free to ask a thousand questions and for Optimus to answer with numerous interruptions and expansions from Ironhide, Ratchet and Bumblebee. A part of him was happy to let the others fill Magnus in on the smaller details, feeling notably weary and starting to ache across his parts.

When they arrived at the Base and cleared the new vehicle through the perimeter checkpoint, Optimus was surprised to find that Starscream and Tempest were waiting for them in the yard. Rolling to a close stop and transforming, he gave the sparkling a searching look to ascertain his mood. Still uneasy, it seemed, but less withdrawn. Clearly he and Starscream had been talking.

"Come on, Magnus – full service time," Ratchet instructed firmly, habitually coming to stand behind the big mech to frog-march him to the Medbay if need be.

"I thought as much," Magnus replied, though his gaze had slid to Optimus. "I'll have a report ready for you tomorrow, Sir."

"Thank you Magnus. I'll look forward to reading it."

Looking between Optimus and Tempest with bright optics, Ironhide motioned to Bumblebee. "I reckon that this warrants a few cubes of High Grade. You in?"

The yellow mech glanced with a frown to Tempest, also worried by his sunken countenance but finally nodded to Ironhide. "Sounds good. Starscream?"

Starscream wasn't so obvious as to look at the subjects they were all deliberately granting space to, moving towards the door with one clawed hand idly rubbing at the new scorches in his side. "Getting shot at with friendly fire usually warrants cubes from the one who fired, but I'll collect from Magnus later. Rec room it is."

Optimus gave the department mechs a grateful nod before watching them file into the hanger, leaving him and the Seeker alone on the yard. He touched the back of his neck, suddenly unsure as to where to begin as he looked to his sparkling. "You have been avoiding me, Tempest. I'd hoped that if I left you to yourself, and to speak with Starscream, that you might come around on your own."

Tempest frowned and shook his head, arms tightening to his sides. "I'm sorry, Sire."

"You do not need to apologise to me," Optimus assured quickly, moving to kneel before the shorter mech and laying his hands on his arms. "Just tell me what's bothering you."

"I don't know," Tempest mumbled, shifting on his feet a little. After a long silence that his Sire patiently waited out, his gaze crept up and he gave a slow shrug. "It's the new sparkling, I guess. I mean, I'm really happy for you and Ironhide, but it just… makes me wonder where I fit in."

Large hands tightened fractionally, a reassuring squeeze that conveyed love and assurance. "You are my son. Nothing will ever change that."

Tempest stepped back as if stunned, mouth a grimace and narrowed optics fixed on the ground as the tender core of his anxieties was exposed to the wind. "But I'm made wrong. I've got, too much of my creator in me. It makes me fight."

Though tempted, Optimus remained still and did not encroach on the youngster's space, though his spark ached to hold him. "It allows you to defend yourself."

The Seeker's gaze when it locked onto him was hard and ashamed. "He's evil."

A long sigh and Optimus shifted a little where he knelt, trying to ease a warning ache across his chassis that indicated that something was being compressed around the sparkling. "Despite what some here would say, Megatron is not evil. He took a dark path, made decisions rooted in anger and what he believed to be injustice, and became so consumed by his quest for power that he was lost to it. Many believed Starscream to be evil as his closest and most feared officer, but he was not beyond redemption. And he chose a different path for you." He waited until Tempest met his optics again, voice soft. "You were not born from evil, and you do not hold evil within you."

Tempest shuttered his optics, almost relieved by the words but suffering from the last vestiges of a fear that wouldn't let go. When he found it in his vocal processor to speak, the words came hesitantly. "I fear… that I'm more like him than you, and your new sparkling will just be you and Ironhide and won't be tainted like I… feel."

Optimus nodded, disturbed to the extent that Tempest had been worrying about this but infinitely relieved that it was finally being resolved. "You are strong, independent and sometimes wise beyond your age, but you are also very young. You have not had time to choose what you will become, but the choices you have already made were for the good. Megatron came for you and you rejected him."

The Seeker hugged himself in a painfully childish gesture. "I fired on one of your oldest friends."

A thin smile, and Optimus held up a correcting finger. "After he fired at you. And Magnus is decidedly regretful of doing so. He was caught somewhat off-guard under the circumstances."

Finally a small smile crept onto Tempest's mouth. "I guess that Starscream joining the Autobots came as a surprise."

"One of many." Deciding to chance it, Optimus pushed off from his knee to stand and met the Seeker halfway across the space between them, smiling when the smaller body rested into his. He laid a hand on his back, warming the plates to a comforting heat. "Tempest, I am proud to call you my son and you will be just as much my sparkling as the one I'm carrying now. Just because you have prematurely adopted an adult frame does not mean that you are expected to handle everything like an adult. Do not put that pressure onto yourself. No doubt I'll be treating you like a sparkling centuries beyond your tolerance for it."

Tempest sighed with shuttered optics, resting his audio receptor against the comforting plates of his Sire. The thrum and clicks of his system were soothing, musical like nothing else he knew. "I guess I just wanted to get a handle on it myself."

A short laugh and Optimus ran his hand across the mech's shoulders. "Now, that is very much like me."

Pulling back a little, Tempest looked up with wide optics. "Really?"

A murmured sound of agreement. "Ironhide becomes frequently exasperated with me for not burdening him with complaints about carrying."

Tempest cocked his head and looked at the spot where he knew his half-sibling to be growing, imagining the finely-built bundled of metal tucked behind the armour plates. "Is it really so bad?"

Optimus smiled at the concern and shook his head. "No, but he worries that it is. Just as I worry for what you are feeling when you withdraw yourself."

The Seeker's mouth slanted in brief guilt before he nodded a little. "Thanks Sire."

"Any time, my son."


	6. Chapter 6

Family Matters

_Chapter Six: The Ratchet/Starscream special_

Doubtless I make for a pitiful scene this morning as the Autobot commander, but as NEST haven't scheduled anything today to see me in that capacity and my own bots are largely leaving me alone, I don't much care about it. Sat at the card table in the rec room with Tempest curled on a chair next to me – though he's sat so close as to indicate that he wants to occupy exactly the same space as me – I've been slowly working through a cube of energon. The sparkling is at the halfway point now and has begun to move about, which explains Tempest's attentiveness. He was there to feel its first metal-grinding twist and has been enthralled ever since. I'm quietly glad of it as it is allowing him to bond with his unborn sibling.

"Where's Ironhide this morning?" he asks, his finial still resting against my side.

The small part of me not preoccupied with nausea, a processor ache and a thin train of irritability feels a little guilty for not knowing what my sparkmate is doing. "Weapons training with Skywarp and Thundercracker, I believe. He's not had a set of aerial bots to play with for long."

Tempest pulls away from me a little and looks up with squinted optics. "Not Scree?"

A low amused sound escapes my vents before I can stop it. "No, I believe he's busy elsewhere this morning."

My sparkling smirks, an expression I'm not used to seeing on him. "You mean he's busy with Ratchet."

I cock my head, brow arched. "Perhaps… How do you know about that?"

A half shrug before he leans back into my side, bringing a hand to rest over the hidden sparkling beside his cheek. "He's not on his berth very often recently, and I saw yellow paint on him the other day, which I don't think was from Bee. And he told me I was too young to understand when I asked him."

"I should hope so," I murmur with utmost sincerity. Tempest has no business knowing about interfacing at his age. I've already reprimanded the Twins for trying to fill his processor with information about 'spikes and sockets' and other such crudities.

A particularly savage kick into the bottom of my spark casing makes me shift, dislodging Tempest and allowing me to press my hand over the spot. He frowns at me, seeming worried. "I don't think the sparkling likes me. It kicks really hard when I'm here."

"It's no less abusive when you're not here." I try to sound reassuring but it comes out as wearied. "You only relented in kicking me when I was walking. I was starting to wear a trench in the briefing room before you were born."

"Does walking help now?"

I lift the energon cube again and find the smell to be less nauseating, enough to risk a sip. "Unfortunately not. Having Ironhide close is the only thing that seems to help, but if I told him that he wouldn't leave me alone."

A soft, musical laugh. "He has been kinda fussy with you."

Pinching the space between my optics, I will the energon to stay down long enough to be absorbed by my systems. "A vast understatement."

Footfalls have us both looking up towards the doorway, recognizing the medic's briskly fluid pace. Ratchet walks past with optics resolutely fixed forward and I exchange a look with Tempest.

"Ten seconds until we see Starscream."

He blinks, optics bright. "Twenty. They're still hiding it."

Exactly sixteen seconds after Ratchet passed, the Seeker appears at the doorway to the rec room and steps inside. Tempest elbows me in the side and I disguise my smile with the cube.

Collecting up his own cube, Starsceam sits opposite us at the table and nods to indicate my chassis. "How's Ironhide's spawn treating you today?"

A hard _clang_ and I rub a hand across my face with a sigh. "It's like being licked by kittens."

"_Sire_ wants rust sticks," Tempest supplies helpfully. "Luna does too, so I think it's probably the sparklings just wanting them."

Starscream smirks with a short laugh, and I recognize the expression from Tempest. A year ago it would have been disquieting. "Slag, Prime, that's unlucky. Why couldn't you both crave diesel or something that actually exists on this planet?"

"Sparklings want sweets, not impurity-rich oil." Faced with his overly smug expression, I entertain the thought of asking him about his nightly jaunts just to make him squirm. Before I can feel too tempted to make him feel as wretched as I do, Magnus comes in and pauses by the door, clearly uneasy with Starscream's casual presence.

Rather than venturing closer, he rubs his shuttered optics in a habitual gesture of trying to get something through his processor. I sympathise entirely – he's had to be informed of a lot of unexpected changes since arriving here a few days ago. "Just to confirm, Optimus, and I'm sorry to pry, but you and Ironhide weren't… there wasn't anything going on whilst I was a part of your unit, was there? Or was I so dense as to miss that?"

I can't help but chuckle at his torn expression. "No Magnus, it's a relatively recent development. I'm afraid that all the… oddities you're encountering have come up over the last year."

"Right." A funny little smile. "Just checking. Uh, I'm going to join Arcee and Bluestreak on patrol unless you need me for anything?"

My dentals grit fractionally. Fortunately I'm not so irritable that I cannot be objective enough to recognise it and curb my glossa. "Thank you, but I'm fine."

Magnus has barely left before Tempest leans away from me with a low whine of concern, frowning at my chassis. "I don't think you're 'fine'. You're leaking."

The scratch of chair legs as Starscream gets to his feet. "Leaking what?"

Tracing my fingers through the fluid seeping out from my plates and onto Tempest, I run a quick scan. It's not serious. "Coolant. I think it's managed to kick a hole in something."

"Ironhide will be so proud," Starscream drawls, coming to stand beside me with folded arms as I get to my feet.

I touch Tempest's shoulder in an attempt to ease his concerned expression. "Stay here with Starscream whilst I see Ratchet, and don't worry. I'm sure it's fine." As an afterthought, I add, "Don't tell Ironhide yet."

Tempest nods seriously to me whilst Starscream gives a jaunty salute.

* * *

When Optimus reached the Medbay, he found himself pausing in the doorway at Ratchet's behaviour. He couldn't quite place what precisely was 'off', but he seemed more agitated and bustling for this time of day. Rather than sitting at his workbench he was roaming with a socket joint, sanding it with a particularly brutal pressure. Glancing to the taller mech, he approached with the same frazzled energy as if unable to stand still.

"What have you done to yourself now?"

Between his aching, leaking chassis and pounding processor, Optimus couldn't help but bristle at his tone. "If you're looking to blame someone, this is Ironhide's fault." He shook his head with shuttered optics, regaining his composure. "I think the sparkling's punctured a coolant line."

Ratchet frowned and Optimus felt the prickle of the medic's scanner before he finally set the items aside, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Prime. Please, up on the berth. Let's see what that the little one's done."

Obediently Optimus sat up on the edge of the familiar berth, unlocking his chest plates for the medic to administer a close scan. With Ratchet standing close to run a microscanner over the area the sparkling was nestled within, he noted the tight lines in his neck and the agitatedly twitching parts in his neck. "What's on your mind, Ratchet?"

Ratchet twitched his head half an inch in dismissive rejection, not consciously aware of doing so. Withdrawing the scanner, he flexed his hand to transform his fingers into patching tools. "It's a minor break on a major line. I think the mechling wanted your attention," he murmured, optics clicking to a greater magnification as he coaxed the nest of silver tubes and oily lubricants to the side to tend to the parental tear.

"Mechling?" Optimus echoed back, a smile creeping across his features. He'd known that discerning the gender of the sparkling would be possible any day now, but he'd not expected to find out in mere passing.

A pause and the medic looked up frowning, as if suddenly catching his own behaviour. "Uh, yes. It's a mech. I'm sorry. I, uh..." Another dismissive twitch of his head as his gaze fixed back on his work inside the broad chassis.

Optimus continued to watch him without pressing, expression impassive though there was an underlying smile at this news. Ironhide had been hoping for a mech, though he'd affirmed more than once that he'd be happy just so long as the sparkling was healthy and happy. He shifted as a soldering tool twitched off-site and accidentally burned him, accompanied by a curse and an apology from Ratchet. Despite the sting he remained still though wary of the medic's uneven focus.

Finally the patch was done and the medic motioned for him to reseal his chest plates. When Ratchet wordlessly moved to pick up the socket joint he'd been sanding, effectively dismissing him, Optimus slid off the berth but lingered leaning against it. Folding his arms he fixed the mech's profile with a stare. "What's on your mind, Ratchet?" There was a weighted resonance native to a Prime in his tone.

Ratchet looked ready to deny that anything was wrong but hesitated meeting the other's gaze, clearly deliberating if he could lie under that tone. More than that, though, there was a burning desire to confess in his features stemmed from confusion: a sickly hope that by telling someone he might find some resolution.

Finally, sounding breathless: "Prime, I've done something extremely foolish." A wince as he re-evaluated his words, pressing a hand over his optics. "Have been continuing to do so, even. Primus, I can't seem to stop."

Optimus tipped his head fractionally, his tone even. "What is it?"

A _schlucht_ of metal rubbing metal before Ratchet dropped his hand and moved to lean against the bed opposite the one he had treated Optimus at, and where the tall mech still stood. Finally: "It's Starscream."

Optics flashing in mirth, Optimus couldn't wholly suppress his smile. He'd suspected as much. "Ah."

"'Ah'?" Ratchet demanded, suddenly animated by incredulity. "What do you mean, 'ah'?"

An innocent shrug and Optimus motioned with one hand. "You two have been spending an awful lot of time together recently."

Bright blue optics turned hard and narrowed. "We're friends."

Optimus arched a brow, managing to get the smile off his faceplates. "Apparently a bit more than that."

Ratchet shook his head and stepped away from the berth, evidently needing to pace. He walked in a tight path the length of the berth he'd put between himself and Optimus, rubbing the back of his neck with gritted dentals. "It's a mistake."

A frown at that spat affirmation. "Why?"

The medic stooped to face the taller mech, optics wide. "Because it's –Starscream-."

Raising a hand at that, Optimus moved away from the berth and came to stand against the barrier Ratchet had put between them. "Formerly the second in command of the Decepticons, who has risked his own life ten times over by defecting to and remaining loyal to the Autobots, who is in guardianship over my sparkling and possesses one of the most brilliant scientific minds of anyone left in our species." Resting his hands atop the berth and his weight down into them, he put on a deep frown and shook his head. "You're right. He's a terrible choice of partner."

Bristling at the sarcasm but respecting that it got the Prime's point across, Ratchet cupped his elbow and rubbed his optics again. "No one will accept this."

There was a tremor of pain in the words that echoed an anxiety that Optimus had experienced himself not long ago, and he sighed with a lowered gaze. "I feared the same of Tempest," he admitted softly, feeling the other's gaze back on his features and raising his optics to meet it. "But Starscream has proved himself time and again, and the bots have accepted him more than you think. Ratchet, I've seen you two together. Your conversations are impenetrable, you clearly feed on each others theories and intelligence and you enjoy each others company."

A small, rolled shrug and a thin smile. "Bots are settling down now, and sometimes friendship naturally progresses into intimacy. Just look at myself and Ironhide. I thought that it would be perceived as improper when others found out, but it was freely accepted. The rules of fraternization have changed, just as who's on which side has changed."

Ratchet folded his arms, shoulders high and tight. "Some bots have long memories," he stated flatly.

Optimus's optics narrowed in thought, and he broached, "Do you think you love him?"

The medic scoffed, though it was a bristled overstatement. "No. Definitely not."

"Do you think you could?"

That soft question gave him pause, and his gaze drifted to the floor as he considered it. "I… don't know."

A short nod and Optimus straightened, his tone firmer. "Don't fear what others think and find out. The rewards outweigh the risks."

Ratchet shook his head, mouth quirking in a bemused smile edged with frustration. "I don't even know if he wants anything more than… whatever this is."

The taller mech gave a short purr of a laugh, touching a hand to his finial when a ping from Prowl came through. "You're more than intelligent enough to discern that, I'm sure."

"I don't know. His processor can be a bit skewed," Ratchet drawled as Optimus made his way towards the door, resting his hands on the berth.

Optimus paused just short of the door's sensors, looking back to the smaller mech. "Speak to Thundercracker if you still find yourself unsure. He knows Starscream well and may have the insight you require."

"I might, thank you." Ratchet grimaced and made a clumsy motion with his hands, optics dimmed. "Uh, Prime, if you could..."

A raised hand and reassuring smile. "I'll keep it to myself, of course. In your own time, Ratchet, but if you could straighten things out before Luna's sparkling is due, and consequently mine, it'd be appreciated. Neither of us will much appreciate delivering with you this distracted."

* * *

A few days following his talk with Optimus, Ratchet found himself lingering late in the Medbay as he worked on parts for the coming sparklings' bodies. He'd reused most of Tempest's first frame for his siblings', but the femme body he was having to build from almost scratch. It was delicate work to construct such comparatively minute components, and hours had passed with his attention barely leaving the space between his fingers. Except to fleetingly wonder about Starscream and what in the pit was happening between them, of course. Whether there was any genuine feeling behind what they'd been doing. He couldn't tell, though that may very well have been because he knew there was and couldn't admit it to himself.

Mercifully Starscream had been absent for much of the week, roaming with Tempest, foraging in Wheeljack's lab and periodically returning to his corner of the Medbay. Whilst there he'd been quietly working with a chemistry set, though to what end Ratchet was unsure. Today he'd left fluids simmering for most of the day, and Ratchet was just starting to wonder where the Seeker had gotten to when he returned with a white metal box in his hand, trailing a power lead.

Sitting back from the slight chassis lying on his workbench, Ratchet scanned over the device and watched as Starscream set it down and plugged it in. "Why have you got a microwave?" he asked, finally getting to his feet and coming to the mech's side as curiosity displaced his nervous unease.

"Dielectric heating," came the flat reply as Starscream pried the back off the machine, extending fine tools from his fingers as he began to solder weak connections to get it working again. "It's primitive but generates a sufficient amount of non-ionizing microwave radiation so it'll do for what I need it for."

"What're you working on?"

"Something for the carriers."

Ratchet blinked, brows arching in surprise. "You're making a present for Prime and Luna?"

A curt nod as he continued to work, finally replacing the case and giving the timer an experimental twist. The machine hummed to life and he gave a thin smile.

"Why?"

Starscream rolled his optics and ran a hand across the full test tubes sitting in the rack to one side, a watery light from his scanners rippling across the dark fluids. "Because I'm a philanthropic bot fuelled by sunshine, puppies and Christmas, and giving gifts just makes me giddy." An irritable sigh as he shook his head, finally giving the medic a sidelong look. "An irritable, sparkbearing mech is a dangerous creature, and for good reason. This will stop Prime from murdering Skids and Mudflap, though Primus knows he should."

He couldn't help but smile at that and folded his arms, scrutinizing the workspace. "So, what is it?"

"I," Starscream began, lifting a vial of coppery liquid and flicking it gently to move the small bubbles clinging to the bottom, "Am using my highly developed scientific processor to make junk food."

Ratchet had heard about the mutual craving. Pit, Ironhide had been asking around to see if anyone had some of the substance still lying around in a storage box. A quick scan over the ingredients and tools on the Seeker's table confirmed his suspicion and he coughed a laugh. "You're making rust sticks?"

"Apparently so," Starscream replied softly, opening a drawer mounted beneath the table and producing a plastic tray. Pouring the viscous liquid into it, he rolled the tray about until the bottom was coated and placed it inside the microwave. "I've finally got the chemical consistency right from the materials at hand, so now I've just got to excite the polarized molecules and bake it. It should taste exactly like the ones we had on Cybertron."

"That's…" Ratchet found himself trailing off, not quite sure what to say. "Very thoughtful of you."

A scoffed laugh. "You can take the credit. It'll be more believable from you."

Ratchet shook his head, brow knitted in a shallow frown. "No. This is a very nice thing you're doing, and it's not exactly been easy from the look of things. You should be recognized for it."

Turning the power to high and setting it for an hour, Starscream sat on the metal stool and folded his arms. "It's rust sticks, Ratchet. I've not invented a cure for cancer." A smirk as he cocked his head, optics drifting up thoughtfully. "Though I may work on that and sell it to the humans in exchange for ownership of a country."

A beat before Ratchet asked, "You're joking, right?"

Crimson optics rolled as he sighed. "Of course I'm joking. I've got a slagging conscience now if the firefight with Magnus is anything to go by. I can't do anything fun."

Despite himself, Ratchet found himself shifting his weight on his feet a little as a smile crept onto his features. That morning had been the biggest indicator of how much Starscream had changed since joining the Autobots, restraining himself in a firefight whereas before he'd have been completely without mercy in protecting Tempest. "It suits you."

The Seeker's shoulders moved as he scoffed. "Says you."

A silence fell between them and Ratchet found himself revisiting Optimus's advice, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered his words. There was no way he was going to work out what the Seeker wanted within the workspace or on the berth. As far as he knew, those two spaces could be the only realms where Starscream was interested in any kind of relationship with him: professional and passionate. A 'relationship' of the kind Optimus had suggested he test the waters of, the rhythm between partners that hovered between those two points, was something he was only going to be able to work out away from the Medbay and his quarters.

"So, uh. Do you want to, perhaps, do something later?"

Starscream's systems froze and his stare tipped slowly up from the spinning tray in the microwave to meet the bright blue optics. "What?"

Fixed under those bloody lights, Ratchet forced himself to straighten in an illusion of being unaffected. "You know, spending time doing something."

"We work in the same room, Ratchet, all day every day." A sharp brow arched and Starscream smiled, though not kindly. "Unless this is your coy way of inviting me onto your berth, in which case your newfound timidity is an interesting tease and I'd be happy to oblige it."

He waved him off, optics shuttering in a nervous cringe. "No, I mean, 'hanging out' or something. Go somewhere."

The Seeker's expression was unimpressed. "I fly, you don't. Sort of shoots that one down."

"Okay," Ratchet replied evenly, processor racing. Dimly he wondered what in the pit he was even doing. "Well, you like hanging out in the rec room."

"And you only go in the rec room if you've got something you can work on in there." Starscream frowned and sat forward, resting his elbows on his legs. "What's this about?"

"I just thought it might be, I don't know, nice to do something that isn't work or, ah-"

"Fragging each other senseless?" the Seeker finished with a smirk.

Ratchet took a quick step away, optics narrowed and his frame tight. Some part of him had known this was a mistake right from the start. "Frag it, Starscream, why do you have to do that?"

Surprised, Starscream rose from the stool though didn't follow the medic around to face him again. "Do what?"

"Be so crude," came the snapped reply over a broad yellow shoulder.

Starscream rolled his optics and sat back down, returning his attention to the quivering substance cooking in the microwave and resting his jaw in his hand. "Oh go get a puppy to simper over."

A beat as Ratchet froze, faceplates tightening into an angry frown. Finally he just shook his head and started towards the door. "You're insufferable."

"So you've told me," Starscream called after him, not looking up. "In a variety of contexts."

"I'll see you later," the medic murmured as he keyed open the door and stepped through, already decided on going to the Seeker's shared headquarters.

Starscream drummed his fingers against his cheek, still smiling as he shouted, "What, you don't want to hold hands in the glow of the microwave?"

The door sealing shut again took the smile off his features, and he rubbed his shuttered optics with a sigh. He should have known that things wouldn't have stayed so pleasantly simple for long.

* * *

Thundercracker had been alone and reading when Ratchet had thumped on his door, calmly letting the medic in and retaking his seat on the edge of one of the deep couches in the Seekers' living area. The four bedrooms were divided into pairs on either end, with custom-built berths cushioned to hold the sensitive protrusions of their wings in recharge.

The quietest Seeker remained silent, watching with a barely raised brow as Ratchet commence pacing across the room. He could sense his prickling energy field, see his taut lines as clearly as a radar blip, and had a fair idea of what this was about.

Unused to feeling this lost on any subject, Ratchet's face was twisted with frustration as he finally blurted, "He's insufferable!"

A briefly quirked smile and Thundercracker sat back, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle. "Not the most imaginative adjective anyone's applied to Starscream, though I'm intrigued as to why you're suddenly saying it again after working together in apparent peace for almost a year."

"It's," Ratchet replied quickly, instantly cutting himself off with a wince as his optics shuttered. Primus this was awkward, though the Seeker's calm unflappability was helping. "We've been, seeing each other, sort of."

"Sort of seeing each other?" Thundercracker repeated archly, trying to pin the medic on the words.

Ratchet moved to perch on the free sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and frowning at some unspecified point on the floor. "It wasn't planned or anything, and it's not… It just keeps happening."

"And you want it to stop?"

A strangely easy question to answer, and the answer was strange to Ratchet's audios as he said it. "No." He looked up to the Seeker, suspicion thick on his faceplates. The other mech was behaving very calmly towards this news, and he wondered if that was because he already knew or if Thundercracker -really- was that unflappable. "Why aren't you surprised?"

Thundercracker gave a wry, self-depreciating smile as he splayed his hands. "Very little surprises me these days."

Ratchet nodded, finding that his processor was racing too feverishly to do more than acknowledge that statement.

The Seeker allowed a few seconds to pass before quietly prompting, "What's been happening?"

Pressing his optics, his other hand rested in a fist on his leg. "It's completely physical. When we're working together it's like nothing's going on, and when I tried to bring it up he was… It's like he doesn't want to acknowledge that there might be something more, but he was the one who let things keep going when I wasn't sure if I wanted it."

The dark Seeker shifted minutely, knuckles grazing the thick protrusion of his sternum. "So, do you –want-to be in a relationship with Starscream?"

A beat as Ratchet wrestled with the notion of even answering that question, which sounded ludicrous against everything that had happened in the war, and then a second pause as he tried to find a response. Finally he replied with a rising gaze, finding Thundercracker's steadiness drawing his optics up from the ground. "I don't know. I didn't even want this… whatever this is at first. Certainly didn't think I did. But, now…"

Thundercracker's mouth angled in a wry smile. "Since when was the spark logical, hn?" At the other's rolled optics he shrugged, his features still arranged softly. "Prime's said it enough times: a lot has changed. We're on the same side now, working together and, as loath as some would be to admit it, becoming a dysfunctional kind of family. We must set our pasts aside. Don't hold his against him."

"I'm not," Ratchet replied quietly with clear sincerity. "I just can't work him out, which is making trying to come to some kind of decision as to what we're doing, let alone where it might be going, completely impossible."

The Seeker frowned in thought, optics narrowed on the other mech. He'd known his commander a long time and knew him well – likely a lot better than Starscream thought he did – and hadn't failed to notice the changes he'd undergone since living amongst the Autobots. Some things didn't change, though, and not all of it could be spoken about. The medic was sincere though, he acknowledged, and if he could facilitate this chance of something positive coming up in his commander's life, then he'd do so.

"I'm only going to do this once," he utterly softly, glancing to the door and noting the red light above it to indicate that it was locked and that they were safe from disturbance.

Ratchet nodded, sensing the other's discomfort at speaking about his comrade in such a personal way behind his back, and sat up on the sofa to give the Seeker his full attention.

Thundercracker folded his arms with a long, thin exhale through his vents that barely shifted the air. "Starscream has always measured his life by how much he's pissing off someone else," he began, his mouth flickering in a smile at Ratchet's short laugh. "Even before the war, when he was working as a scientist he took pride in being the upstart with the outlandish but brilliant theories, of breaking in after hours and bypassing protocol to achieve stunning results. He was good enough to get away with it, which wasn't a bad trend until he met Megatron and fell in with his cause."

The Seeker's optics shifted down, his processor casting back across a thousand incidents that were all fundamentally the same, stretching over thousands of years. "Megatron wasn't as smart as Starscream – very few are, but he was undeniably more ruthless and more single-minded in his pursuit of goals, which usually matched up with Starscream's own wants and ambitions. When Megatron refused to take his advice and was proved time and time again through failure that he ought to have, Starscream took the brunt of his fury. It became a bleak kind of joke which Starscream thought Megatron was the butt of. Megatron would come up with a grand plan, he'd point out all the holes in it and announce what would actually work, be ignored, and then crow vindictively when he was proved right and was punished."

"Starscream's goading of his master wasn't unnoticed," Ratchet pointed out in the pause, running a thumb across his jaw as he thought back to all those 'I told you so' moments he'd seen in battle, sometimes with those exact words, and the metal-crushing blows that reciprocated them.

A short, slight nod as Thundercracker acknowledged as much before he met Ratchet's optics again, the plates tight. "That side of him has been absent since I've been here, though. He's not antagonising anyone with his superior intellect. He's not trying to manipulate anyone or take control. For the first time in a long while, he's got a lab he can work in without anyone demanding certain outcomes or trying to control his work, he's not having his parts re-arranged every couple of days and he's got bots he cares about, respects, even. Starscream loves Tempest as much as he's capable of, and that's probably come as as big a shock to him as to everyone else. Whatever he's doing with you, be it fated to be casual or serious, is unchartered territory within all that. He can't judge peace or contentment, only the annoyance of others, so when he's antagonising you he's testing where the lines are and when he's… not, he's trying to live this new life because he wants it, even if he doesn't quite understand it."

Ratchet rubbed his optics as he took all that onboard. It made sense, but it hadn't even entered his processor to think of it. Certainly Thundercracker had been thinking on this carefully. "So what do you suggest?"

A smile that bordered on a smirk. "Match him. You're a naturally sarcastic bot, Ratchet. Anyone here will attest to that. So when he's trying to land verbal scratches and chew you down, match him with your own intellect. Challenge him, play the game and show him that you're not intimidated by him, that you're not particularly impressed and that you're not going anywhere. Once you confront him on that plateau, on his most familiar ground, then you'll know what you've really gotten involved in and whether or not you want to pursue it."

The medic considered that for a moment before breathing an incredulous laugh. "It figures that the advice to work out if there's a relationship in the making with Starscream is to antagonize him."

Thundercracker rolled his shoulder in a shrug, optics bright. "Primus has a very particular sense of humour."

"Don't I know it."

"Think on things for a few days," the Seeker added with a raised hand, sitting forward. "Nothing need be resolved immediately, and giving you both some time to cool your vents and work out your processors may be what's called for."

Ratchet nodded, relieved by the reminder that not everything needed to be solved as soon as possible. Pushing himself up to his feet, he gave the Seeker a sincere smile. "Thanks, Thundercracker."

"My pleasure, doctor," he replied, also getting to his feet to see his guest out. "It's… a novelty to be indirectly involved in the scheming of my commander's love life."


	7. Chapter 7

Family Matters

_Chapter Seven_

I don't quite stagger back into our shared quarters, but I feel that I would have every right to. Four days in Washington with Magnus playing diplomats have left me with a strong desire to crawl onto a berth and not get up again for a long time. My processor has been aching as much as my systems have been in general from the inanity of some of the board discussions…

This is Ultra Magnus... Yes, he's a 'good robot'... No, he won't accidentally step on you... He's very pleasant... Yes, I am, as you would call it, pregnant… No, I'm still what you would class as 'male'… No, I don't want to discuss sparkbearing… No, I will not 'intimidate' the Middle East for you… I am not tetchy...

The bond has a forced emptiness to it that signals that Ironhide is trying not to disturb me, though I sense his approach to our quarters as I get onto the berth and drop flat onto my back. The release of tension is substantial enough to make my hydraulics hiss, but the relief is short-lived as the ache in my backstrut reaches a new depth of discomfort. Resigned, I shift onto my side and start kneading at the kinked wires and stressed parts with one hand, shuttering my optics despite being far from recharge feeling like this.

I open them again when I feel the warmth of Ironhide's systems in front of me, and the humm of his vents. One dark hand is extended with a mass of amber coloured, brittle tubes held like a human bunch of flowers. The ache in my back suddenly forgotten, I sit up and accept his offering.

"I love you."

He grunts with a smile, moving to sit next to me on the berth and brushing his knuckles down my arm. "You love anyone at the moment if they bring you rust sticks."

Actually, I note, I love Starscream for making them more than anyone else who brings them. It had been an awkward thing for the Seeker to tell me, particularly when I pressed for details of how difficult it had been, but he'd covered it with his usual bravado. Tempest is developing an addiction to the things, and almost every other bot on the Base has been putting in 'orders' for the sweets. After declaring that he was a scientist and not a rust-stick factory, Starscream had accepted Jolt's offer and was teaching him to make them.

To his statement, I finish the first stick and offer a shrug. "Perhaps, but I love you more."

A raised brow and he rumbles a laugh. "Uh huh."

I offer him a rust stick and he takes it after a pause, biting the end off the sweet snack. "How have things been around here?"

"Pretty quiet. We were expecting the femmes to comm. in sometime this week going by their location when Magnus heard from them, but nothing." He rubs his optics with a frown, obviously troubled. "Might just be conserving power, or to surprise us. They might get here tomorrow or the day after."

"I've informed the government of their impending arrival." Another rust stick, and resting my weight a little into Ironhide's side I'm starting to feel more like myself. I return to kneading my fingers into my lower back. "They'll contact us when they detect an incoming body."

Ironhide finishes his rust stick, dusting his hands off to land the crumbs on the floor. He's been mindful not to complain about crumbs in the berth from me, though I know from the prickles down the bond when they get into his joints that they irritate him. "How were the meetings?"

"Long," I reply flatly, gladly eating the last rust stick. "Long, repetitive and spent standing up."

He gives me a sympathetic sidelong look. "Magnus's legendary patience came in handy then?"

I can't help but scoff at that. "My 'legendary patience' nearly went out the airlock, so it was required." Magnus had been invaluable from day one, and not because of his contributions. His steady presence was a reliable touch-stone when I was aching, irritable and missing my sparkmate. He had also been given an overly thorough briefing from Ratchet about things to watch out for with me, and how to tend to any problems that cropped up before the medic could get to us.

A hand comes to rest over mine on my back, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. "Want me to rub your backstrut?"

For once I don't turn down his offer, removing my hand as his takes its place and firmly caresses my aching parts. "If you don't I might have to go find someone who will."

Ironhide stops only to shift on the berth to sit behind me, his legs coming to rest either side of me as both hands begin to press and rub into my backstrut. I find my head dropping so that my chin rests on my chest, optics shuttering again. I've not let him tend to me as often as he would like, but when I do I find myself wondering why I don't allow him to do this every day. I like self-sufficiency too much when it comes to my own systems, I believe, and I worry that asking him for help would only make him feel that carrying is as difficult as he feared it would be.

The sound of shifting metal in my chassis elicits a rumble from him, and one hand travels out me to touch at the point. Our sparkling lies on its side to him, and his fingers stroke over what I'm fairly certain is an arm. It has finished developing now and is growing well, presenting an ever-expanding pressure in my chassis. I find a small comfort in the knowledge that Tempest was worse than this, and that in a few weeks it'll be over.

Ironhide's hand moving back to rub between my shoulders cuts off my thoughts. "Pest's off out with the other Seekers. Sam and Mikaela went too. The little'un was pretty happy about that."

I rub a hand over my optics in a vague attempt at offsetting my processor ache. "He's been worrying that they don't trust him."

"Well, they're in his cockpit so that should convince him." A hot sigh through his vents peels through the gaps in my armour and warms my protoform. Apparently satisfied with the feel of my backstrut, he gives a gentle pull for me to rest back into his chassis. "How're you feeling?"

The massage has worked wonders and the rust sticks have had the dual affect of quieting the sparkling and scratching the mental itch of craving them. "Tired."

His fingers interlace across my waist, possessive. "Want me to ask Magnus if he can do the NEST debriefing about the meetings on his own?"

"He already offered."

"Hope you said yes."

I smile a little. "He told me to."

A pleased rumble. "Good lad."

With my optics shuttered, my systems easing and the bond filled with thick, comfortable warmth, I feel myself slipping towards recharge. The knowledge that Tempest is still out is keeping me from relaxing completely, though. "When are the Seeker's due back?"

"They didn't say."

I check my internal chronometer with a frown, opening my optics again. "It's getting late."

Ironhide sighs and flexes his arms about me simultaneously. "He'll be fine. Primus help any Decepticon who tried to go for Tempest whilst all three Seekers are with him. Screamer would go psychotic and the other two would follow his lead."

Though I agree with his assessment of how well safeguarded Tempest is by the savage protectiveness of the Autobots, I find myself disagreeing with the latter. "I don't think so. Starscream's calmed down a lot since joining us. He's learned temperance."

Ironhide makes a low sound, thoughtful. "He's still Pest's guardian, and he takes it to spark."

I arch a brow at that and look back to my sparkmate over my shoulder. "You seem content with that."

His optics meet mine steadily and he gives a small, dismissive shrug. "I trust him, and he can watch out for Pest in places I can't."

Turning away again, I consider his words for a moment before shaking my head. "I'm going to comm. them."

A low rumble and Ironhide unwraps himself from about me, sliding back off the berth. "You're going to recharge."

I pointedly ignore how he seems to be preparing to shove me down on my back and make me. "After I comm. them."

He seems to weigh up his chances, finally rolling his optics. "Fine. It's getting dark out and Primus forbid they all forget to turn their running lights on."

Now I roll my optics, feeling a flare of agitation pulse through my chassis. It triggers the sparkling to kick, only enhancing the feeling. "That's not what I mean."

He folds his arms, optics softening. "They're fine, Optimus."

I frown and point a demonstrative finger. "You'll understand when this sparkling is born. You're already overprotective."

"I'm not," he bristles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a motion that is utterly endearing. "I'm just the right amount of protective. You're my sparkmate and that's my sparkling."

Smiling a little, I cock my head. "And Tempest is my sparkling and it's getting dark."

My sparkmate watches me for a few seconds before sighing. "Fine. Comm. them, then I'll get you a few more rust sticks and you're getting some recharge."

It's a blatant bribe, but it's a good one. I send a grateful pulse to him across the bond, and he smiles broadly in return. "Now that sounds fine."

* * *

It had been a perfectly clear afternoon for the four Seekers tearing across the open ocean at full pelt, spinning in playful acrobatics and occasionally passing their engines so close to the waves that it sent up spray. Starscream tore up in another neck-breaking ascent to slice sideways back towards the sea, arcing out of the dive with only feet to spare. Watching from inside Tempest's cockpit, Sam _whooped_ and tugged uselessly at the flight controls again. "You've gotta try it, man! Just one dive. Just for me, please?"

Thoughtful static before Tempest's smooth voice came over the radio. "Mikaela?"

Sat in the copilot seat behind Sam, Mikaela watched Skywarp blink out of sight to their left only to reappear upside down directly above them. She touched the cold glass of the window, marvelling once again that this was a living being they were flying inside with a grin.

"Mikaela?" Tempest prompted, tightening the seat harness in a quick squeeze. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I'm fine Tempest," Mikaela replied, blinking out of her reverie. She found herself speaking to the small display screen in front of her, though the Seeker's voice seemed to come from all around. "I wouldn't try any of the stunts Starscream's pulling off, though."

"Yeah, the winglet might pop a seal," Skywarp crooned over the comm., rocking whilst still inverted above them.

Tempest made an irritated static sound. "Frag off 'Warp."

"Language, Tempest," Starscream chided from ahead of them, regaining altitude to rejoin the group.

Sam snorted a laugh, earning a slap on the head from Mikaela with a paper sick bag. She sat back and regarded the screen again, watching Skywarp's shadow swinging back and forth across the cockpit. "Seriously Tempest, Sam'll just hurl all over your console."

"No I wouldn't!" Sam protested, regretting all over again admitting that Tempest's dizzyingly fast take-off had made him feel queasy for twenty minutes. "Come on, we've just been flying along with Thundercracker whilst these guys have all the fun."

Skywarp actually snickered, a strange sound for the humans to hear from a mech. "Just 'cause TC's bolts are screwed on too tight."

Thundercracker barked a low 'hey', air brakes flicking.

"I don't want to risk hurting you," Tempest added seriously.

"We're not completely fragile," Sam replied, folding his arms and sitting back in the seat. "Did I tell you about the time me and Optimus went off a flyover?"

A beat before Tempest replied wearily, "Many times."

Thundercracker sighed to himself. "Even I'm sick of hearing it now."

"I don't know," Skywarp replied lightly, performing a round barrel-roll about the formation. "I could go a few more times hearing about Screamer the nurse."

A growl down the comm. and Starscream's engines flashed. "Slag – that's it, 'Warp." It was all the warning the Seeker needed to boom off at speed.

Following Starscream's indignation trained on Skywarp's aft, all four jets plummeted down to fly just above the waves. Surging forwards to line up with Skywarp, Tempest angled to skim a wingtip and send a spray of water across the mech's cockpit. Rather than retaliating, Skywarp spun up over Thundercracker to spray the more stoic jet on the other side. The game of splash-tag went on for ten minutes before Thundercracker became provoked enough to join in, leaving the humans shrieking in delight as the jets wove about each other.

"Best time out in a Bot ever!" Sam declared as Tempest rolled under Starscream in a spectacular wash of foam, soaking the elder Seeker's undercarriage.

"Don't tell Bee you said that or you'll break his spark," Mikaela warned, though her own cheeks hurt from grinning. There was a rush from riding in an alien supercar doing triple figures, but sitting in a Harrier pulling moves that few human pilots could was something else, let alone with three more jets performing all manner of acrobatics around them.

A few more minutes of lunatic flying passed before the comm. chirped on an open signal. Optimus sounded weary on the line, doubtless on his last nerve after a week of back-to-back meetings in Washington, Mikaela guessed. "Alright you six, back to Base."

"Do we have to?" Sam asked, sagging back in the seat.

"Just another hour?" Tempest added in a tone that spoke of his age. "Please _Sire_?"

"Yeah, please Prime," Skywarp whined, clearly only just managing not to laugh outright. "We're not tired yet."

"And we want a story," Starscream smirked.

Skywarp barked a laugh. "And a glass of cow juice!"

"Sparklings, behave," Thundercracker drawled over the sound of Optimus's rumble, already leading them back at a rapid pace towards the shore.

The image of Prime pinching between his optics was tangible. "Tempest, home. Now. It'll be past your recharge time when you get back anyway."

If they were on the ground Tempest would be scuffing his wheels. As it was his wings sagged. "Alright, I'm coming."

"And no dawdling," Optimus added with a carefully weighted note of finality. "Ironhide has Duck and a cannon, and he's not afraid to use it."

"He wouldn't," Mikaela assured when the cockpit lights flickered anxiously.

"He might," Ironhide's voice suddenly came across the comm. "It's been a long week."

"That means he's cranky," Sam supplied quietly.

Starscream suddenly surged forward ahead of the group, bearing down keenly on the emerging shoreline close to the waves. "Prime, are you getting this?" he asked in tight tones over the open channel, aware of the other jets putting on a burst of speed to catch up.

"Your sensor data's coming through clearly."

"What're we looking at?" Mikaela asked softly, squinting through the roof of the cockpit as her stomach tightened anxiously at the weight in Optimus's voice.

"New bots on the beach," Thundercracker replied, shifting in the air to fly above them. "Judging from the size of the landing pods, it's the femmes, but they're not doing anything. They've not even transformed."

"We'll dispatch to meet you," Optimus announced flatly.

"Thundercracker and I can carry them back faster than you could get here, Prime," Starscream advised, dropping his landing gear in preparation. Tucked up the femmes could fit into the compartment in their undercarriage without a problem.

"Alright. Ratchet will be ready to receive them. Prime out."

* * *

The last few minutes before landing passed in silence, Tempest only uttering a soft 'wow' when the craters from landing were visible as they came about to land. Opening his cockpit, he waited as Thundercracker helped Sam and Mikaela out before transforming and moving to follow Starscream and Skywarp.

Starscream knelt beside the closest pod, the second smoking forty yards away with the residual heat of atmosphere. His sharp fingers traced over the woven cocoon of armour that encased the curled protoform inside, a frown overtaking his features. "They came down less than an hour ago."

"Why didn't anyone detect it?" Sam asked, coming to a stop with Mikaela at the edge of the deep furrow in the ground. "Weren't we watching out for them when we found out they were coming?"

"They're too small to have picked up without any energy readings coming off of them," Thundercracker replied as he came to kneel beside Starscream, watching the other Seeker work.

Mikaela sensed there was something not being said, and folded her arms with a glance up to Tempest. "What does that mean?"

"They're dead," Starscream answered flatly, getting to his feet and coming about to the 'nose' of the pod. "'Warp, bring the other one over." The younger Seeker nodded and moved off to fetch the second mass of metal whilst Starscream began feeling for a gap in this pod. Finally finding an entry point, he pried the metal back and reached his arm inside up to the elbow. Seconds later he jerked the extremity back as the transformation sequence was triggered, the silver parts collapsing back on themselves with a hard whine.

Thundercracker remained knelt as the transformation sequence finished, leaving a compact femme in the scorched earth. His wide optics matched Starscream's as they took in her appearance, blue metal marred by black cracks that covered her body. Cautiously, he touched a shoulder plate and jerked his hand back when the metal crumbled into flakes. "Primus, what is this?"

Kneeling on his haunches, Starscream glanced to see Skywarp trigger the other pod's transformation sequence to reveal a femme in the same condition. He scanned over the blue femme once again, stumped by the results. "I'm not sure. It looks like radiation burns, but I've never seen necrosis this severe. Auto-repair systems always offset this degree of damage. It's never fatal on its own."

"They must have passed an anomaly you're not familiar with," Tempest offered softly from where he watched with the humans, not daring to venture closer.

Starscream made a soft sound of agreement, running his fist beneath his jaw thoughtfully. "Ratchet's going to need to make a full scan to work out what it was and where it got them. It looks like they didn't know it was dangerous until it was too late, and if we leave this planet we can't afford to be ignorant of it." He looked up to where Skywarp was standing, clearly uneasy as he regarded the femme at his feet.

He knew from experience that Skywarp didn't like to carry anything other than energon in his hold, and especially not another bot, so Starscream looked to Thundercracker as he carefully began to slip his arms under the femme. "You take Elita, I'll take Chromia. We'll have to fly carefully so as not to disturb their bodies in transit. Skywarp, take Tempest and the humans back to Base."

Watching the femmes being picked up, their bodies shedding flakes of dead protoform in a dense shower, Tempest only tore his optics away with a flinch when Skywarp touched his shoulder. Silently retaking his Harrier form, he waited as Skywarp gingerly took Sam and Mikaela into his hand and held them out to the cockpit. He watched Starscream and Thundercracker transform with unnatural slowness around the femmes, drawing their arms in closely to encase their cargo into their bodies.

"Tempest?" Sam broached softly, clearly haunted by the image of the decomposing bodies.

"I'm fine," Tempest replied quietly, flaring his engines and taking them up vertically whilst Skywarp made the necessary run-up into flight.

It was clear from the thick silence across the comm.s that no one was in the mood for talking as the laden Seekers readied themselves for take-off, the two already airborne heading for the Base at top speed.

* * *

There was an hour's delay between the first Seekers touching down in the Yard and the arrival of the remaining pair. Another hour passed as Ratchet made his scans, finally advising that Prime call a meeting as soon as possible with the bots. One with the humans would likely also be prudent. The effects of the unknown disease that had been brought to them would start to show soon. There was no point in quarantine. Passed on through their energy fields, they all already had it.


	8. Chapter 8

_Warnings for mechslash._

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* * *

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Family Matters

_Chapter Eight_

The disease had spread through the Base as fast as news of it had, transmitted through the Cybertronians' energy fields. The only way they could have stopped it would have been with four-foot-thick partitions of lead. As with all great sicknesses, the first life it took was one of the youngest.

Ratchet had done everything he could both as a medic and a mech, quietly sedating Luna as she heaved and sobbed in Bluestreak's arms after he'd delivered the news. He had to operate, he'd tried to reason with the shaking mech, had to get the toxic infant out before its decaying systems polluted Luna's to such an extent that they would both be lost.

It was too much to take in, too sudden and rapid an adjustment to make about the little femme they'd named and loved and anticipated coming into the world with swollen sparks. Ratchet hadn't had it in him to try to extract Bluestreak from the yellow femme's sedated form, resorting to putting him under as well in the end.

The surgery had been straightforward and over within an hour, Luna's system already recoiling from the slick and blackened sparkling. He'd laid it in a small containment unit and sealed the lid, then somehow allowed the damning silver box to linger on the desk in his office.

First Aid and Wheeljack were left confirming infections in the Medbay, but there was nothing they could do about it at this point. There was no treatment and no reason to keep anyone on a berth until the necrosis began to seriously affect their systems. They were all infected, sans one, and unless a better cure than the only one Ratchet could see came up then they'd be corroded and dead in a week.

Ratchet's processor idly noted a passage of seven hours since he'd sat at his desk and begun scrutinizing data, running mental chemical simulations and finally sunk deeper and deeper into the cold knowledge that there was only one way to save them. And he refused to do it. Either in the long or short term, it would kill their Prime, and it was a very basic line of code in his programming not to allow such a thing to come about.

"You're going to be of no help to anyone unless you recharge and come at this with a fresh processor," Starscream's softened voice came from the doorway.

"Time's a factor," he replied dully, sitting back and finding his gaze drawn back to the silver coffin weighing down one corner of his desk. His forced his optics down, only to spot anew the dark traces of necrosis between the joints of his hands. It was starting in the weakest areas – places where they had seen a lot of damage, and Ratchet had had his hands mangled performing battlefront repairs more times than he liked to think. "Have you gotten anywhere?"

The Seeker came about to stand beside the medic, facing him as he leaned back against the desk with folded arms. The web of necrosis was only on his undercarriage and hips at the moment, though doubtless it would soon be in his shoulders and everywhere else he'd had a serious weld. "Nowhere I wasn't already ten hours ago. I've been working around adaptive field generators to see if I can mimic what we need Prime's protomatter for, but it's not something I can actively manage fast enough for one bot let alone all of them."

Ratchet made a low sound, rubbing his optics with his fingertips. "I've been finding the same thing with nanites and artificial protoform. It doesn't help that I've never heard of anything like this before. The only thing that's going to work is a large transfusion of healthy protoform."

Head dipping with weariness and the oppressive weight of ongoing failure, Starscream ran an idle scan of the container on the desk. His mouth twitched in a grimace. "How's Prime's sparkling?"

"Alive." The word was uncomfortably loaded with relief and regret, a combination that sat sickly in Ratchet's tanks. He shifted to rest an elbow on the edge of the desk and his head in his hand, staring blankly at the pad-littered surface. "It's still so young as to be completely reliant on Optimus's system, and as the Matrix is constantly maintaining his protoform and resisting the disease's effects, it's also being spared."

"And you can't transfuse from a carrying system because it'll kill the sparkling, if not both of them," Starscream concluded, kneading sharp fingers across the back of his neck as he revisited the point he'd been returning to all day.

"I believe that the sparkling's death would destroy him anyway, even if the miscarriage didn't." His faceplates tightened, the lines in his throat twitching. "Luna was… I've never seen grief like that. All the deaths I've seen, the news of Cybertron's complete destruction, and I've never seen it so beyond compare. I've kept both her and Bluestreak under for their own sakes."

Ratchet looked up when he felt a hand appear on his shoulder, the bearer's expression watchful and concerned. Starscream slid his hand across a myriad of strong parts before resting his fingers under the medic's jaw, cupping his face with sharp tenderness. "It's not your fault. Doubtless you did everything you could to preserve so young a spark, and a lesser medic wouldn't have been able to save the creator."

A shaky exhale through his vents as he shuttered his optics, gratefully soaking up the comfort in the soft touch. "She was so small. So perfect. Another week and-"

Starscream cut him off from the torturously pointless thought with a low sound, his hand roaming to the back of Ratchet's helm as he lent to rest their foreheads together. "It's done now. It's awful but it's done, and we'll figure out how to stop this before it takes anyone else."

Ratchet's systems tightened and held taught, vents humming a growl. "I will not murder my Prime through killing his sparkling to save us. There's another way."

_Not always_ was on the tip of his glossa but Starscream merely made a soft sound of agreement, knowing that the medic didn't need to hear aloud the cold truth that he likely already knew. "The meeting with the humans isn't for another six hours. Get some rest."

"I'm really not going to be able to recharge," Ratchet scoffed back softly, optics shuttering as he pressed his fingers to his helm. "Not until I've come up with an alternative to forcing Prime to miscarriage."

Starscream rumbled a quiet sound, bloody optics narrowing as his gaze turned downcast. Silence stretched out inside the office for long minutes before he spoke again, his voice calm and flat. "I could do it. I could remove the sparkling so you could begin the transfusions."

Ratchet's face twisted as he sat back from the Seeker's touch, his optics hot and bright. "Of course you could. You've already murdered hundreds of sparklings. What's one more to save your own life?"

Dentals clenching, Starscream remained still at the burning insult. "Someone needs to carry out the hard choice. You know as well as I do that he'll tell you to do it."

The medic shook his head, vehement. "I won't let him."

"It's his duty to protect and preserve his species," Starscream reminded needlessly, plates arranged with intensity.

Ratchet surged to his feet, putting his back to the other mech as he moved to the far wall and rested an elbow against it, cupping his helm. "There's a limit to the sacrifices he should make."

Starscream pinched the space between his optics, forcing his voice to remain level. "The universe has no concept of limits, or of compassion." Stepping away from the desk, he crossed to the shorter mech and laid his hands on his shoulders. "We cannot have fought and survived for so long, hovering on the edge of extinction, to give up because you refuse to accept and abide by a decision that only Optimus can make."

Though Ratchet was always thought to have no restraint on his glossa, always speaking what was on his processor without consideration for his audience, this was not entirely the case. The medic knew temperance and omission, though used the former far more than the latter. Much of the news he gave was bad and a compassionate means of telling it was an ingrained part of his circuits. Now though, with his bearings fried and the conversation with Thundercracker culminating in advising not to hold back where Starscream was concerned still burning a hole in his processor, Ratchet found himself throwing caution to the wind.

He turned on the Seeker violently enough to make him step back, but grabbed the mech by the arms as his mouth twisted. "You are so fraggin sparkless, Screamer. You think everything's cut and dry: one dies to save many. Frag it if that happened to be a sparkling of the Prime cherished beyond your capability of understanding. If Tempest was required to lay down his life to save us, would you be so quick to volunteer to do the job yourself? Would you crush his spark in your bare hands without even a flicker of guilt? You haven't changed a bit, Screamer. You're still the same Decepticon who'd murder a sparkling in recharge."

Starscream stood unfazed through the medic's spat words, not attempting to move away nor allowing any emotion to pass over his plates. After a few moments of silence, he arched a brow. "Are you done?"

Shaking with furious anguish, Ratchet shoved him away and made to stride past him and out of the office, growling under his vents when he found his arm caught to pull him back.

"You're not going anywhere this pissed off, Hatchet," Starscream snapped by way of an explanation, his grip not far removed from crushing the metal plates. "Everyone's tired and anxious, so you need to get your slag together before you go talking to any of them. Because they are going to come to you for answers, for reassurance, and if you've got nothing but gripes about how it's so unfair and how you'll turn down the cure, even when Prime himself orders you to do it, because it conflicts with your morals, you're just going to frag up an already fragged situation."

Ratchet planted a hand squarely into the Seeker's cockpit and tried to shove him back, mouth twisting when the grip didn't ease. He didn't have a chance getting away from the mech with brute force, and with intent to unnerve Starscream enough to release him, he stepped in close to the Seeker and grabbed a fistful of wires in the base of his throat. His voice came as a hiss. "And what do you suggest I do?"

Starscream's mouth quirked in an unkind smile, bloody optics narrowing as he shifted forward to close the final inches of space between them. "Get it out of your system. You're not going to hurt my feelings."

The medic snarled something that didn't translate into English, a Cybertronian profanity that came out digitised and hard. He shoved back against the Seeker, got nowhere, and took advantage of Starscream's proximity to sweep a foot behind him and topple him back onto his wings through their combined weight. Starscream landed with a shunt through his vents, twisting to throw Ratchet off of him but finding his legs quickly pinned and the medic's hands around his throat. It wasn't a position that could harm him – it was a gesture. A symbol of absolute, helpless rage.

"Frag you, Screamer," Ratchet spat, fingers tightening against a tremor that had begun to spread up his arms. This burning anger felt good, exhilarating as it filled the void left from spending hours wading through doubt, worry and despair. It was cathartic, spreading heat through his systems as he pinned what had come to personify his frustration at all the dead-ends and no-hopes he'd encountered since this blasted necrosis spread through the Base.

He blinked at the flicker that passed through Starscream's optics, and realised with a suddenness that caused his vents to skip a cycle that the Seeker knew that. And was doing this intentionally. Ratchet couldn't decide if he was outraged or grateful.

Watching the myriad of conflicting emotions pass over the medic's features, Starscream reached up and rested his hands about the shaking wrists at his throat. A gentle, exploratory tug confirmed that Ratchet wasn't going to be letting go anytime soon, and he dropped his hands to the powerful thighs resting about his midsection. His thumbs naturally found crevices they'd ventured into before, and he idly thumbed over lines and splinters of protoform as he waited.

Systems already overrun by the maelstrom of anger, frustration and fear, Ratchet found the additional feeling of the sensual touches dizzying and his grip tightened as if holding a lifeline. Starscream hissed at the significant discomfort squeezing those neural lines brought about, trying to arch away from the grip. Rather than releasing him the medic lowered himself to take off the tension, pinning him by throat and shoulder as his vents shuddered noisily.

Taking advantage of the new proximity, Starscream ventured his hands upwards to slim hips and neural lines that ended up in an interface unit.

Ratchet squirmed, dentals gritted. "What are you doing?"

Starscream met his gaze coolly. "You need to stop. You need a break from all this before your processor fritzes."

The fact that Starscream's fingers were being incredibly effective at garnering an aroused response only made Ratchet angrier. "And your solution is to frag on my office floor?"

The Seeker didn't smile, didn't shrug, didn't treat this as anything other than serious. His hands moved upwards to the trembling chassis that spilled stale heat through his fingers, overclocked and agitated. At the central seam he drew out a groan that didn't want to be released. This was an offer of release and comfort, one he knew that they both needed. The hand at his throat relaxed as Ratchet rocked back, proving him right.

Giving up to the swelling tide, setting aside his guilt that he wasn't working on finding a cure to the disease at this moment, Ratchet bowed his head to seize the Seeker's mouth in a ferocious kiss. It wasn't a sexual passion but a different kind of heat that flowed out, that had him grasp Starscream's arms as he was being grasped in turn, delivering hard bites along the strong jaw and down the vulnerable throat. Clawed fingers cupped his helm, pulling him even closer as they twisted on the ground.

As always, there was a struggle to pin the other on their back, but it was short-lived as Ratchet had already been in such an advantageous position. Starscream gave as good as he got, though, groping hard enough to leave scratches and writhing as the same treatment was bestowed across his body. Firm caresses and electrified kisses that left blue ripples of charge edging out were given and received by both, Ratchet's seeking of a ready interface port to jack a secondary consideration.

Starscream surprised them both with a hiss of air from his cockpit, the mechanism sliding down between them to expose the complex inner workings that obscured his spark chamber. Ratchet froze at the feel of its warmth against his chassis, pulling back with bright optics rounded in shock as he searched the Seeker's expression. Starscream had never exposed his spark to him before – had never indicated a desire to do so, and it was certainly not something he'd ever ask for. Their interface had always been plugs and ports – pleasure-based and nothing more. What was being offered now made his own spark throb, though in part with unease.

"Are you sure?" he breathed, finding the restraint it was taking to keep his own chest plates firmly shut almost painful as the seconds passed and more of the obstructions between his body and the Seeker's spark were retracted out of the way.

A flicker about Starscream's optics betrayed his apprehension, but there was also no doubt that he wanted this. He couldn't articulate why or how – indeed this development had surprised him. It felt right, though, as something they both wanted, needed and perhaps even deserved right now. It wasn't perfect, but then nothing was. Finally, to Ratchet's hushed question and searching gaze, he gave a slight nod and a small, almost nervous smile.

Ratchet needed no further encouragement though he kept their pace slow, continuing his revisit of Starscream's sweet spots at a calmer pace as his chassis split and arranged itself to expose his own spark casing. Starscream brought his hands up to Ratchet's jaw, slipping his thumbs over a juncture that bisected a key neural line and holding him there. He still needed some edge of control, even if it held no real risk

Their sparks came together with measured slowness, a heady mingling that made them both gasp at the intensity long missed and near forgotten. Starscream shuddered in mixed delight at the wave of sensation that flowed back to him from the medic's spark. Fear; compassion; dread; relief; not love, certainly, but something that was just as alien and indefinable though not unwelcomed. In return, Ratchet gasped at the sharp waves of passion, remorse, restlessness and uncluttered ecstasy that surged into him. There was a bitter thread underlining the emotions, and he glimpsed what he instinctively diagnosed as a recurring nightmare. A nursery, the largest on Cybertron, and all its inhabitants slaughtered for the Autobots to find. Images of horror backed with a fear that it could never be repented for, no matter how much he loved and protected the sparklings he had found a second chance with now.

Coherent thought didn't last more than a few seconds as their infrequently touched sparks, now mixing molten and frenzied between their bodies, exploded in a nova of sensation that pounded through their systems and left them echoing each others' cry. It felt so good it hurt. It overwhelmed them to near-offlining, though through the come-down came petting as if to reassure themselves that it was really happening. Physical touches reaffirmed the merge as astonishing actuality, and Ratchet rested his helm against Starscream's as his vents gasped and his extremities tingled.

"Thank you."

Starscream's reply was equally quiet, as if sound would shatter whatever this queer, warm peace that had filled the office was. "You're welcome."

Laying a kiss seemed such an insubstantial thing now, and Ratchet smiled self-consciously as he did so before sitting back and resealing his chassis with a wince from disuse. The smile was short-lived, however, when his sharp optics caught sight of the black threads of decay that traced across Starscream's parts in his chassis. He touched them silently with a frown, looking up only to see the Seeker motioning to the marks of his own necrosis on his own chassis.

"What're we going to do?" he found himself asking, watching as Starscream resealed his own parts and shifted back to sit up.

Starscream's mouth quirked downwards, unknowing and resigned. "Whatever it takes. If it takes the hard choice, we'll do it. Both of us, alright? Guilt's a pit-forsaken thing to deal with on your own."

The nightmare scenes from the nursery he'd gleaned flickered through Ratchet's processor, and he bit his glossa wondering if Starscream knew he'd shared them. It was doubtful, and he would respect the silence that the Seeker felt he needed on the matter. To his statement, however, Ratchet extended a hand as if to help pull one another up, which in a manner of speaking they were. He offered a smile and found it returned as Starscream's hand wrapped about his wrist in turn. "Deal."

* * *

Prime hadn't called an official meeting with NEST, leaving Lennox uneasy and bewildered on the U-shaped structure that held the small collection of humans at approximately his optic level. Epps was watching the bots approach the wide doors of the hanger with folded arms, his frown matching the other soldier's, and Sam and Mikaela hovered to his left.

"Do you know what this is about?" he asked the teens, resting his hands on the bars as he tried to infer something from the bots' body language.

Sam shook his head. "'Bee wouldn't tell me, and the Base was pretty scarce yesterday. I don't think it's good, though."

"I've never seen so many of 'em come with him to tell us something," Epps intoned softly, straightening a little now that their footfalls were becoming audible within the building.

"They don't look happy," Mikaela added quietly, taking in Ratchet's crestfallen expression as he walked alongside Starscream. Ironhide was following a step behind Tempest, an unconscious gesture of protectiveness over the Seeker who had his arms wrapped around his mid-section. Bumblebee was walking alone, separated from the group by several feet and flanked by Ultra Magnus.

They all came to a stop in a rough line just inside the doorway whilst Optimus continued to walk, stopping within his customary zone inside the platform. He took in the humans with dark optics, the sharp battle mask firmly in place. "Thank you for coming. There has been a… development that I feel you should all be aware of."

"Is this about the female Autobots you were waiting for?" Lennox asked, judging from the flicker inside the blue lights that it was, and that it was a painful topic.

Optimus nodded fractionally, systems hissing as he readjusted his weight. Dimly, the hard sound of something moving inside his chassis could be heard. "Elita and Chromia landed two nights ago. Their sparks had been lost to a disease we've never seen before."

Mikaela and Lennox exchanged a sidelong glance, each knowing better than anyone how important those femmes had been to Optimus and Ironhide. Neither could imagine what the mech was feeling now after learning of what sounded a truly awful death. However, they both noted that he appeared pensive and torn rather than depressed, arms folded and optics dim from thinking on something difficult. Epps looked to Ironhide with a grimace, silently conveying his condolences. The dark mech bristled but gave a jerked nod of acknowledgement, optics averted.

"What kind of disease was it?" Sam asked, automatically looking to Ratchet just as Optimus glanced to the yellow mech, summoning him forward. It was a curious thing to have to look down on him from the platform.

The medic's features were angled in a weary grimace as he stood at Prime's side, arms folded. "Not one that poses any kind of risk to the technology of your world. We are immune to most forms of radiation, but Elita and Chromia had passed close to a powerful anomaly that I'm unfamiliar with. Starscream is looking into it." A hard shunt of air and Ratchet rubbed his optics, drawing his detached professionalism around him like a thick cloak. "The effect it's had on them is similar to a human autoimmune disorder: what usually functions to maintain and repair our bodies naturally turned to attack them instead. The necrosis had advanced to ultimately fatal levels before they set course to arrive here."

Optimus's gaze clicked to the soldiers. "I requested your authorities remove their bodies to a secure location and encase them in lead. They have been placed close to where your people first tried to contain Megatron."

Lennox almost asked if that was simply a burial or a containment of the disease, but Ratchet pre-empted him with the frankness of a soldier medic. "The necrosis is contagious."

"Extremely," Optimus added in a gravelled rumble.

"Who else is infected?" Lennox asked quickly, his stare remaining on Optimus whilst Sam and Mikaela looked across the small collection of bots behind him with concern.

Ratchet nodded up to the taller mech. "Everyone but Prime."

"The Matrix has afforded me protection." His tone suggested that he wasn't particularly happy about that.

Looking to Ratchet and finding no reassurance in his expression, Mikaela was loathe to ask but summoned the question: "Can you treat it?"

"I can slow its progress and manage the pain," the medic replied carefully, his gaze sliding to Optimus. "I don't have a cure."

Sam felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach and grasped the railing, knuckles whitening as he absorbed that. Bumblebee made a soft whine and began to approach from the outside of the structure.

"That's under debate," Optimus retorted to Ratchet's assessment with a sudden harshness that made them all shift. "You know as well as I do that a transfusion of my protoform would retrain the defective regeneration and eradicate the necrosis."

"And I know better than you how stupid an idea that is," Ratchet fairly snarled back, though it was clear in his bright optics that it was a tone rooted in concern and protectiveness. "Enough to treat one bot would be enough to kill the sparkling. I've already dealt with one miscarriage because of this and I will not induce yours. Not if there's any other possible way."

Mikaela's mouth slackened. "Luna and Bluestreak?

Ratchet grunted an affirmative, schooling his composure as he met her gaze. "The processor directing the growth of their sparkling's protoform was vulnerable to the necrosis. There was nothing I could do."

Hand coming to his lowered helm, Optimus pressed his shuttered optics. It was an awful feeling to know that he possessed the solution, but at the cost of his and Ironhide's sparkling. The dark mech remained standing with Tempest, his own head bowed as he continued to leave Prime room to make the decision. He already knew what Optimus would choose to do, and a small part of his spark was trying to resent him for it. For willingly killing their sparkling. But it was a selfish thing to want to protect the unborn life when its end could potentially save them all.

Soaking the news with the bitter twist in his stomach as a father, Lennox directed his question to Ratchet when it was obvious that the tallest mech was taking a moment. And understandably so. "Is there any way you could remove the sparkling temporarily? Put it on some kind of life support so Optimus can donate?"

The medic sighed, having spent a long time already looking into that alternative. Tempest had been a premature birth by only a few hours, and that had nearly killed them both as his Sire's systems refused to release the sparkling to the point of injury. "Not only would that be like putting my hand into a moving engine to unscrew one bolt, but Prime's system's protocol to break down and transport protomatter can't be aborted until either the sparkling is birthed or offlined. I can keep everyone alive and repairable for a week. The sparkling's due in, at the soonest, two."

On the lower level of the structure with his arm resting across Bumblebee's fingers, Sam raised a hand. "You only need the protomatter of a Prime, right?" he called up, summoning both pairs of optics to him.

"A substantial amount of it, yes," Ratchet confirmed, optics narrowing sceptically.

Sam grinned as the pinprick of hope in his chest blossomed. "There are Primes in Egypt who don't need theirs anymore."

"We didn't excavate them," Lennox immediately added. "They got boarded up and it's a restricted area, but the bodies are still there."

Optimus moved his hand from his optics in a slow gesture to stop the train of thought. "If their condition is anything like that of the Fallen after he was destroyed, then their protomatter will be of no use."

"They looked pretty intact to me," Sam broke in, making his way back up the metal staircase to the upper level. "They were turned grey but it didn't look like they'd, uh, decomposed at all."

"Grey?" Starscream echoed from the back, crossing to stand between Ratchet and Optimus to regard the teen with burning optics. To his question Sam nodded a confirmation, and the Seeker looked to Ratchet. "They deactivated themselves to offline. They weren't killed like the Fallen was. There's a chance we could reanimate their protomatter, or at least the self-repair nanites."

"What if it disintegrates like the Matrix did when I took it out of their tomb?" Standing between Mikaela and Lennox again, Sam rested his weight through his hands on the railing. "If it's as powerful stuff as you say it is, then it's probably safeguarded so not just anyone can take it."

Optimus nodded. "I'll retrieve it. I'm free of the necrosis and the only one who can remove my ancestors intact."

"No fragging way," Ironhide abruptly bellowed from the back, coming to his sparkmate's side with heavy footfalls. "You're in no condition to fly halfway round the planet to go digging in a pyramid."

The taller mech's optics were bright slits, the humans clearly forgotten. "I'm in a far better 'condition' than anyone else, and you'll all need Ratchet's assistance more than I over the coming week."

"You're not thinking of going alone, are you?" Lennox asked with a frown, unphased when both mechs looked to him.

"Not a chance," Ironhide replied with a hard shunt through his vents, folding his arms.

"Though the choices are limited," Ratchet added, seeming to be siding with Optimus. "The necrosis is presenting firstly over repaired areas – welds, patch jobs, wear and tear. After thousands of years without a full prefabrication plant to make parts, we've all got major parts that are already infected and will be the first to fail. Bee's legs, for example. Jazz's backstrut." A flicker of a bitter smile. "Most of Starscream."

"Fine, so don't assign someone to go," Ironhide barked with a glower to the medic. "I volunteer, and even if you don't accept that I'm going anyway."

Ratchet arched a brow, unimpressed. "You're already starting to limp from where the necrosis is getting at the spiral fracture in your femurical strut I welded two hundred years ago. Fine lot of help you'll be in Egypt when you can't walk."

"I've not suffered damage to the extent you're discussing," came a new baritone voice from the back. Magnus moved to the edge of the crowded space within the raised structure. "My weapons are long-range and have kept me out of much of the direct conflict I've been involved in. The most significant repair I've required was to replace my right shoulder."

"You can accompany me," Optimus concluded flatly, his gaze shifting immediately to Ironhide. :I need you to be here with Tempest.:

The dark mech shifted, dentals clamped hard. :I can't just let you go.:

A thin smile behind the mask, though from the shift in the plates about his optics gave it away. :This is the only solution that may save us whilst preserving our sparkling, and I need you to be with Tempest.:

After what seemed like a few taut moments of silence, Ironhide suddenly fixed Lennox with a hard stare. "You will be accompanying Prime and you will make sure nothing happens to him." It was a statement that broached no dispute.

"Of course," Lennox nodded with a glance to Epps, who seemed as steadfastly behind the decision as he was.

Ratchet grunted his assent before pointing beside Sam. "Mikaela, you are the best trained after myself to assist if anything happens with the sparkling. Will you go?"

Mikaela didn't have to look at Ironhide to know that she didn't have a choice in the matter as far as he was concerned, though she'd already made the decision to help in any way that she could. "You couldn't keep me away."

"I'll go too," Sam added, stepping closer to Mikaela and sliding a hand up her back. "I'm the one who went inside the temple last time. I might be able to help."

Optimus nodded, unconsciously pressing a hand to his side when the sparkling seemed to grab something it liked and pulled it. "Thank you. We should leave as soon as possible. Time is of the essence."

As they all began separating and filing out – the soldiers to acquire a plane, Optimus and Ironhide to Tempest and Magnus, Ratchet slipped his hand unseen about Starscream's wrist to get his attention. Though still dark with concern, there was a fresh brightness in his optics. "I told you there was another way."

Starscream arched a brow, appreciating this brief moment of levity for what it was. They had a hard few days ahead of them. "Don't get too used to being right around me."


	9. Chapter 9

Family Matters

_Chapter Nine_

"Why," Sam began, watching with distinct unease as Lennox adjusted an array of straps around his legs and hips, "Do we have to skydive into Egypt?"

Satisfied with the straps for their tandem parachute jump, Lennox stood and began checking the harness clips about the teen's shoulders. A little way off in the Hercules hanger, Epps was doing the same with Mikaela. A handful of NEST soldiers sat at the opposite end from the Autbots already set to make the jump into the desert.

Lennox offered a wry, semi-reassuring grin to the query. "The Egyptian government hasn't been particularly happy with us taking over a bit of their territory that we had no rights to, particularly a pyramid. That and we've had to answer every 'why' of theirs with 'not tellin''. If we tried to drive the big guys in we'd hit a barricade in every direction at best. At worst, land mines. Ordinarily I wouldn't worry about those kinds of explosions doing them any damage, but with… things as they are, this is the safest bet for getting in. Chinooks are on stand-by to get us out anytime in the next 48 hours."

Sam nodded, giving the two mechs at the far end of the expansive cargo hold a sidelong look. "Gotchya." He was silent as Lennox finished making his checks before beginning to go over his own gear. When Sam spoke again, it was softly. "This has gotta be really scary for them. I mean, for the boss, mostly."

Lennox nodded a little though didn't look up from where he was checking the clips and straps on his waist. "No parent should have to bury their children, but if this thing with the Primes doesn't work that's what he'll do. He's used to making sacrifices for his soldiers."

"Yeah, but there's a limit," Sam whispered back with a frown. "I kinda thought that dying would have been it, but this…"

"It'll work," Mikaela cut in from beside him, stepping in close with Epps though her gaze was also on the two large mechs seated away from them. "Everyone's going to make sure that it does."

There was a creaking sound as Optimus shifted against the curved wall of the plane, one leg bent to rest his elbow on as a hand pressed into his face, optics shuttered above the battle mask. As they couldn't be sure how long this would take Ratchet had forcibly filled his tanks with energon and coolant, which had left his nausea swirling at new depths of discomfort. Combined with that was the ache of worry and weariness, the knowledge that his sparkmate and son were terminally ill – along with all his bots – if a solution couldn't be reached. Be that in the successful use of the bodies of his ancestors or the death of the sparkling he carried now.

Beside him, Ultra Magnus sat close enough that several plates were resting against each other, one hand on Prime's shoulder whilst his optics remained steadily fixed on his face in profile. It was unsettling to see his commander like this, certainly moreso than the black webs of decay that had appeared in his right shoulder plates that stung with a brittle burn.

"Is there anything I can do?" Magnus rumbled softly, the fifth time he'd asked in the hours they'd been flying. He'd been met with a negative each time, and a slight motion with one hand answered the same now.

Gritting his dentals against the curdling weight of queasiness that seemed to have taken over every system, Optimus brought his hand down and rested his head back against the plane, opening his optics. "The heat will help when we land." The _clang_ of an internal kick into his backstrut and he shifted again with a grimace. "Though the sooner we get back the better."

Magnus hummed an agreement, glancing behind the slightly taller mech's back to the compartments that contained the parachutes that would guide him down, identical to his own. "Not the best way to enter a location with primitive equipment, but it is… direct."

Optimus quirked a smile, rubbing at the space between his optics. "It'll be fine, Magnus. I've done this before."

The soldier cocked his head, optics bright with amusement. "Was that before or after you died?"

One optic narrowed fractionally. "Before."

A soft laugh and Magnus shook his head, rubbing his helm with two fingers. "There have truly been some 'unique' events transpire on this planet. Your resurrection at the hands of a human; the defection of Megatron's Seeker's." He trailed off, intentionally steering away from the subject of sparklings and family, though doubtless it was at the fore of the other's processor.

"They are an extraordinary species in many ways, and have been invaluable in recent years to our conflict with the Decepticons," Optimus replied smoothly, though his lines were spasming with cramp from sitting for so long. Clutching a handful of cargo net above him, he slowly got to his feet, mindful not to destabilise the plane with his weight. Standing, he pressed a hand to his backstrut over where he was sure the sparkling had kicked a sizeable dent.

Remaining seated in the swaying plane, Magnus scanned over the mech's chassis and smiled at the small distortion that was visible over his grill. "Have you and Ironhide settled on a name for the mechling?"

Optimus shook his head, regretting it immediately when the plane seemed to spin. Shuttering his optics, his fist tightened around the cargo netting on the wall. "Not yet, no." Privately, he was grateful that they hadn't been able to come to an agreement on a name yet. A named sparkling that may die in the coming week felt even worse than an unnamed one, though both twisted his spark unbearably.

Seeing Prime's shoulders sag a little, Magnus forced a lightness into his tone that he didn't quite feel. "You do know that, with Ironhide as a creator, it may come out as a big-sparked cannon with legs."

Despite his anxieties and ailments, Optimus couldn't help but breath a laugh at that. "And we would love him all the same." A hard _clang_ made his vents wheeze, and now Magnus did stand, which served to rock the plane hard enough to make the humans shout.

The soldier was too focussed on Prime to offer them as little as an apologetic glance. "Sir?"

Optimus shook his head with a grimace, waving off the concern. There were more important things on his processor than his battered internals. "Magnus, whatever happens at the tomb, you are to return to Base with the Prime's protomatter even if it is without me."

Magnus frowned, touching a hand to the mech's shoulder. "What are you saying, Prime?"

Pinching his optics, Optimus breathed a stale sigh through his vents. "I have a bad feeling about this mission, and its failure could spell our doom. You must heed my orders when the time comes."

"Of course, Prime," Magnus affirmed softly, though his spark felt wildly conflicted. Much was riding on them successfully getting the Primes back to Base in time for a cure to be derived, but that still did not feel enough to leave Optimus behind 'when the time comes'. Whatever that meant. There was a rumour of foresight with the Matrix, he knew, though perhaps only instinctually. He'd witnessed it before when Optimus had made a call that went beyond wisdom and experience in his knowingness. Prime's willingness to trust such instincts had saved lives before, and he hoped that it would save many more now.

"Alright folks, show time in five. Saddle up," Lennox shouted over the roar of the plane's engines, gesturing for them to prepare for the jump. Epps was already securing Mikaela's back against his chest, and Sam waited for Lennox to do the same for him.

Straightening, Magnus ran a quick diagnostic on the parachutes and their connective lines to his amour before giving a short nod to Optimus to indicate that he was prepared. "I'll trust that these fabric devices are adequate to aid the vertical deceleration of our masses."

His old friend was nervous, Optimus noted with a smile. "They are." He himself was far more worried by the fact that, though the plane ride hadn't been turbulent enough to trigger his overfilled tanks to purge, a terminal velocity drop just might.

Moving gingerly towards the back of the plane, Magnus latched onto the reassuring tone. "At least if the parachutes aren't enough to favourably slow our descent, landing on granular material will be a soft impact."

Optimus paused in following Magnus down the plane, arching a bemused brow and suppressing a laugh. "You've never had sand in your exhaust, have you?"

* * *

Tempest was doing an admirable job of not showing how much pain he was in, though Ironhide could tell from the steely tautness of his parts and the heat from his vents as they walked to the Medbay that it was a lot. "You're as stubborn as your Sire," he announced, deftly ignoring the fact that their pace was making his leg hurt far more than it would have if they'd slowed down. "Sticking a brave face on things. Aren't sparklings supposed to cry over every little scrape?"

"You won't be saying that when your sparkling's demanding that you kiss his 'boo boo's to make them better," Tempest replied through his dentals, keying open the door and looking about the collection of bots inside for their overworked medic.

Ironhide shunted a grunt at the remark, spotting Ratchet near what used to be Starscream's corner and motioning for Tempest to follow. "I'll just have the mechling ask old Hatchet to kiss it better. That'll teach 'im."

Tempest coughed a laugh, which turned into a wince. "You're horrible, you know that?"

The dark mech grimaced as the necrosis in his thigh delivered a fresh stabbing pain. "Yeah, I'm horrible and my kid'll probably hate me, but so long as he does it with a comprehensive understanding of the large weapons array I'll have strapped to his back, I won't mind."

The young mech didn't have a response to that and merely sat up on a free berth as Ratchet approached, clutching the edge with both hands. The medic appeared in front of him clearly frazzled but with concern bright in his optics. "Your wings, I take it?" To Tempest's nod Ratchet looked to Ironhide. "All the Seeker's have been having the same problem. The parts are overly sensitive anyway, and the necrosis is aggravating that." He returned his gaze to Tempest, voice softening. "I have to remove your wings to stop the pain, alright? Just until we can get this sorted out."

At the prospect of having his wings taken from him, Tempest stiffened and made to slide off the berth. "No, I'm fine Ratchet. It doesn't hurt that bad. Ironhide was just worried."

Ironhide laid a hand on his shoulder before the youngster could move. "Everyone's hurtin', Pest, and there's no shame in getting looked after. We promised your Sire that we'd take care of you whilst he was away, and that's what we're going to do."

Deciding on a different tact, Ratchet nodded to the elder Seeker who'd just appeared and now lingered at the doorway to his office. "Starscream had his wings removed this morning. They're in storage waiting to go back on when he's better."

Tempest frowned as he considered that, peering around Ironhide to where Starscream was watching them. At the Seeker's slight nod, he looked back to the waiting medic. "Okay. Just so long as they'll be safe."

Ratchet offered a small smile, coming about to stand behind the solid mech. "I promise. Now just relax and keep still. I can have this done in a few minutes." Transforming his fingers into the necessary tools, he noticed Ironhide staring at his blackened hands and shook his head. Now was not the time to speak about it.

Whilst Ratchet set about unscrewing parts on Tempest's back, Ironhide took in the other occupants of the crowded room. The Medbay had never looked so small. Luna and Bluestreak were just visible behind a screen at one end, sedated and lying deceptively at peace. Jazz was also on a berth, though propped up and helping Prowl affix a hinged splint to his knee where the joint had been shattered not long ago. First Aid and Wheeljack moved between bots with pain suppressants and welding tools, patching over failing parts as best they could so they could leave again and make space. There was a definite sense of turnover, though in a few days most of them would be too bad off from the necrosis to leave again.

His optics fixed on Starscream whom seemed to be staring at him with intent, and he frowned when the Seeker gestured for him to come over before ducking back into Ratchet's office. Glancing to Tempest and seeing that Ratchet still had a lot to do in this relatively painless procedure, Ironhide weaved through the injured bots and allowed the office door to shut behind him.

Starscream stood behind a vast chemistry arrangement on Ratchet's desk, appearing substantially smaller for the loss of his wings. The necrosis covered almost the entirety of his body, doubtless from Megatron's repeated punishments as well as his altercations with the Autobots from the Decepticon side. He came about and held out a silver device that looked vaguely like a corkscrew to Ironhide. "I need your help with something."

"That's new," Ironhide snorted, though took the contraption and examined it. Most of its length was made up of a hollow metal tube with a serrated end. "What do you need?"

"Dead protomatter," he replied promptly, folding his arms with a grimace. "The quicker I can reanimate the Prime's protomatter the better, but first I need to figure out how to do it. So I need a sample to work with."

"And you're going to experiment on your own body?" Ironhide asked with a note of unease, suddenly feeling weightiness to the device in his hands.

Starscream rolled his optics at the thin concern. "No, I'm going to experiment with a sample that just happens to come from my body. Look, Ratchet won't do it and it needs too much brute force for me to take it myself, so are you going to help me or not?"

A year ago the prospect of sticking sharp implements into Starscream's protoform would have been appealing, but now that he'd come around to the Seeker, Ironhide found himself hesitating. The mech's point was sound, though, and he wanted this way of curing them of the necrosis to work, as the alternatives were unacceptable in his processor. He nodded and turned the thing in his hands to slip his fingers through the plunger.

Rubbing momentarily at his helm, Starscream put his back to the dark mech and rested a hand on the desk, bracing himself. "Four inches left of my lower backstrut you can go through a gap in my armour. Holding down the red switch will cauterize the wound as you go. I need an eight inch sample, so keep going until the tube runs out."

Locating the vulnerable point on the Seeker's armour, Ironhide traced its blackened outline with thick fingers before bringing the circular mount to rest over the metal. "Is this gonna hurt you?"

A gravelled hiss, exasperated. "Exceptionally so, you'll be pleased to hear, so just get on with it."

"Just wondered if you wanted me to keep talking to you. Keep your processor off it a bit," Ironhide murmured flatly, flicking the cauterising switch and waiting for the probe to heat.

Starscream found he didn't have a retort to that offered kindness and so waited silently instead, shuttering his optics when he felt the heated end beginning to descend towards his body. When it made burning contact he flinched, gritting his dentals when Ironhide put a steadying hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

The sight of the hot, cutting metal sinking into the mech's back was only marginally worse than the smell of it, and Ironhide grimaced as he maintained the smooth pressure on the plunger that the extraction required. Starscream remained silent, though a hard tremble ran throughout his body.

"How's Tempest?" Starscream suddenly bit out, his voice tight and shuddering.

"Ratch's taking his wings off to help with the pain," Ironhide replied clearly, fingers tightening on the mech's shoulder when he felt the density of the protoform he was boring into increase, demanding more force from his hand. "He's okay, though. Frightened, but holding up."

"Prime won't let anything happen to him," Starscream affirmed, sinking into the desk a little as the agonising lance drilled deeper. "Frag, -I- won't let anything happen to him."

The vehement statement brought the question that had been lurking in Ironhide's mind for months to the fore. It would take his mind off the pain, he reasoned. "Y'know Screamer, with how you are with Pest, I've thought more than once that he might not be Megatron's."

"You mean mine?" Starscream wheezed, looking back over his shoulder with a deep frown. His optics had dimmed to near-black from the pain as well as the effort of standing still to allow it to go on.

Ironhide checked the equipment and saw that they still had another four inches to go before he could stop. "Yeah." A wry grin and he arched a brow at the watching Seeker. "I mean, you care about him more than I thought any stack of slag like you could."

"Well thanks," Starscream drawled scathingly, momentarily distracted from the pain by his desire to punch the other mech. "But the haploid spark came from Megatron, not me. It's the guardian bond, nothing more."

There was something like regret in his tone, Ironhide noted as they reached the last two inches. "Do you wish it were?" he asked softly, not entirely sure why he was so interested.

"I'm not a Sire figure," Starscream replied flatly, hissing as his sharp fingers sank deeper into the dents he'd made on the desk.

Ironhide grunted, waiting for the sarcastic follow-through. "Like me, you mean?"

The Seeker shook his head, bowed. "You do fine."

Mouth tightening at the compliment, Ironhide sighed a little when his knuckles finally came to rest on Starscream's back. "That's it. Cut the end, twist and pull?"

Starscream gave a jerked nod. "Black switch, and don't twist. Make it quick."

Thumbing the black switch over, Ironhide waited for Starscream to jerk as the blades at the end of the device sealed before smoothly drawing the whole thing out in one swift motion. The wound left behind was grotesquely large and continued to smoke from the cauterization. He stepped back to give Starscream some room.

The Seeker straightened with visible effort, pressing a hand gingerly to his back as he reached for the device. When Ironhide handed it to him, he moved back about the desk and dropped to sit in the chair, rubbing his optics to refocus before drawing the sample out into a waiting tray. He seemed unperturbed by it lying in front of him.

"Why don't you take some pain suppressants?" Ironhide asked, watching Starscream's hands as they began to plug fine electrodes into the extracted silver 'flesh'. "Ratchet's handing them out like rust sticks."

"They slow my processor," Starscream replied simply, optics narrowing as he siphoned the charge out of the protoform. It lost its silvery colouring to turn grey – lifeless. Now came the challenging part of bringing it back to life, or at least close enough to retrain diseased regenerative systems. "See if you can convince Ratchet to, though. His hands are going to be worse than useless in a few hours at this rate until he lets someone help him."

It was a thinly-disguised request for him to leave, Ironhide noted with surprise, though he nodded and moved towards the door. "I'll try but I can't promise anything. He should be done with Tempest now. I'll leave you to it. Good luck figuring this out."

Starscream nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the protomatter as he began dividing into pieces. "Thanks. And thank you for your help, Ironhide."

Ironhide's remark as he closed the door was equally sincere. "Don't mention it."


	10. Chapter 10

Family Matters

_Chapter Ten_

The descent from the plane was not as bad as I'd feared, but the impact was much worse. Magnus and I land a dune apart in the sand, but where he kneels with the landing to absorb the energy I stagger from a stabbing pain in my chassis and roll twice. Something bursts and begins leaking, though at a slow rate. On my back in the hot sand, I run a quick diagnostic and find the sparkling mercifully unharmed by the fall, though its mass compressed an umbilical line against my spark chamber and has split it. It's a small problem that can wait, though convincing Magnus of that is likely to be an uphill battle.

Severing the parachute lines and getting to my feet, I take a moment for the sun's warmth to take the edge off my nausea whilst I locate the humans. Though controlled, the parachutes have still spread them out though my scans tell me that they are all unharmed. Magnus jogs to my side as I turn my attention to the leak in my chassis, pressing on the part through my armour to stem the flow. Before he can say anything I hold up a hand. "It's fine, Magnus, just a small puncture. Mikaela can repair it at the pyramid."

He looks far from convinced, optics bright and fixed on the diluted energon seeping through my fingers. It is possibly the least severe injury he's ever seen on me. "Are you sure, Prime? It may trigger the sparkling to-"

"The sparkling is due in twelve days, not twelve hours. Stop fretting," I break in flatly, not regretting the irritation apparent in my tone. There is no time for coddling or excessive care. Seconds later I'm, what Sam would phrase 'eating my words', as the sparkling unleashes a volley of hard kicks to my abused internals. It's enough to put me on my knees again, my arms wrapped about my chassis as if it might help.

It doesn't reassure Magnus, whose hands are on my back running a myriad of scans. A rush of air through his vents and he shakes his head, optics wide on me. "I can feel it. Prime, I can feel it moving within you."

My response is ground out through my dentals as my son continues to play merry pit with my innards. "Yes, I can feel it too. It's a blessed miracle." A groan escapes me and I bow my head, forcing down the sickly need to purge. "He kicks if I move suddenly – amongst other things. I'm being punished for the landing."

"I see. I didn't think." He falls silent kneeling at my side, watching the humans congregate as they come towards us. I make to stand but think better of it, realising that I'll only need to kneel again to speak to them when they get here anyway. Magnus drums his fingers against my backstrut before withdrawing his hand, resting it across his thigh. "They don't realise how hard this is, do they?"

I know that it is not only the exhuming or butchery of our ancestors of which he speaks. Magnus was always astute, and tactful enough not to say it outright. "They don't need to know. I'm carrying, not mortally wounded."

Magnus smiles a little, sympathy laced with something I don't recognise. "You are not invulnerable, even if you are Prime. If there's anything I or any of us can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask it."

The gentle request reminds me that sometimes even token gestures of aid can be rewarding when one can't be of significant help, and that I should accept them from friends as it's as much for them as for myself. "I'll keep it in mind," I assure softly, shifting my weight now that the sparkling has satisfied its sadistic whims and stilled once more.

Lennox jogs up the dune to my feet with Epps, leaving Sam and Mikaela behind thanks to his rigorous physical training, and doubtless the trauma of the jump. He raises his hand as a shield against the sun. "Are you alright, Optimus? Bad landing?"

I find myself glancing to Magnus before looking back to the concerned soldier. "I'll need Mikaela's assistance to repair a damaged line when we reach the pyramid, but it is not urgent."

His stare lingers, scrutinizing me for which I keep my facial plates absolutely still. Finally he nods. "Okay. Thanks for being upfront about it. We're only a few clicks from the pyramid."

I exchange a glance with Magnus, finding him giving me a smile that is almost a smirk. A hand pressed to my side, I ignore the look and begin to slowly follow Lennox as the other humans gather behind.

* * *

The security cordon around the pyramid had been extended by a quarter of a mile as those protecting it didn't have the clearance to know what was in it – let alone witness the arrival and work of two Autobots. The Prime's tomb was in an ancient structure a little way from the semi-destroyed pyramid itself, and Optimus found his gaze lingering on the shattered peak as he lay still on the flagstones. Lennox's men were setting up lights and containers around the broken-in entrance whilst Mikaela worked inside his chassis.

"Magnus, can you bring the light closer?" she called out from under his chest plates, led on her stomach in the overalls and welding gloves Optimus had brought in a storage hatch.

The big mech shifted accordingly, bringing the bright lights on his chest down to penetrate the shadows in Prime's chassis. Uneasy and respectful, he averted his optics from the sight and noted with a sigh that Sam and Lennox did not. A soft click from Optimus summoned his attention.

"It's alright, Magnus. I've learnt once over already that sparkbaring comes at the cost of some dignity," Optimus assured softly, trying to draw the mech out a little. Truthfully what Mikaela was doing hurt and worried him, and he could use the distraction.

"And some energon," Mikaela chimed in as she shifted back out between the metal plates, holding her energon-coated arms away from her. Both mechs frowned at the amount of it, and her own frown didn't ease them. "Are you sure it's a burst line, Optimus? I can't find it."

After glancing to Optimus for permission, Lennox climbed up onto the broad chassis and knelt beside Mikaela, taking the pocket flashlight from her to see for himself. "So where's the energon coming from?"

"I felt the line split." Shifting his gaze upwards, he touched at his finial to project a simplified model of his upper chassis. The sparkling lay encased in a silver cocoon of cables and wires, tucked beneath and below the Matrix and with his own spark chamber above it all. He summoned a red light onto that convergence. "There. It was crushed against my spark casing."

Mikaela sat back on her heels when the hologram blinked out, her lips pressed in a thin line. "I can't get around the sparkling to reach up there. I guess you're too far along."

"So what now?" Sam asked from the lying mech's shoulder, one hand resting on his armour in a gesture of reassurance.

Optimus glanced to the pair on his chest to make sure they were out of the way before beginning to reseal the parts, a clear indication that the attempted intervention was over. After they'd slid down his ribstruts he sat up, subtly pressing his fist into his back. "It leaks. It's not a significant rate and we will be returning to the Base, and subsequently the Medbay, in a few days."

Lennox ran a hand through his hair, forcing his expression to remain neutral. They'd just gotten here and already there was a problem that, no matter what Optimus said, they were going to worry about. "Can't you just shut off the line?"

The mech shook his head, resting a hand on his knee to push up to his feet. "Not without cutting off the sparkling entirely. It's a separate framework that I don't have full control over."

Magnus shifted his weight, optics narrowed. "Prime, perhaps it would be best if-"

"No," Optimus cut him off, harsh and flat. "I am at no risk of running dry and all of the Autobots are at risk of death if we do not do what we came here to do."

A thick silence before Magnus nodded. "Yes Sir."

With a quick glance across the humans that conveyed the same firm message, Optimus stepped past them to the hole in the wall that had been made two years ago. The soldiers had taken down the boards covering it and now lights and generators were gathered around the entrance. No one had gone inside, as ordered.

Expecting Magnus to follow, Optimus knocked a few fistfuls of stone inwards to make the entrance big enough before ducking inside. The lights did little for the expansive room, and he lit his own and watched the angular shadows sway when the other mech did the same behind him. The bodies were all taller and thinner than him, twisted and hunched to form a cage around an artefact that was no longer found on the central stone. Their faces were at once anguished and determined, and he bowed his head beneath their darkened optics.

Beside him, Magnus descended to one knee in the old sand. "Primus, forgive us for what we do."

"If it were for anything less than our survival, we would not," Optimus uttered softly, feeling as if no words above a murmur could be spoken here.

Stepping forwards, he hesitated a moment before laying his hand on the arm of one of his ancestors. It felt sturdy and emanated a foreign coldness. His fingers traced upwards and across, hooking over rib struts and finally stopping on the protomatter between that had hardened with a pitted surface. He stepped back and took in the circumference of the room the bodies made, finally looking to Magnus. "There's enough, but we'll have to cut it out."

Instinct pressed Magnus to rebel and refuse, as it no doubt did for Optimus. However he simply nodded and extended a cutting saw from his arm. He hesitated to apply the blade until his commander had sunk his own into a Prime's chest, optics dark and narrowed with concentration.

Outside the tomb, Lennox and Epps stood at the doorway and watched as their soldiers moved into position around the tomb to stand guard. Sam sat on one of the generators for the lights, staring into the flickering darkness though he couldn't see the mechs working. Mikaela finished stripping off the protective clothing and wrapped it in a tarp, leaving it on one of the crates to sit beside Sam.

Lennox waited for a break in the shrill sound of sawing to ask her: "How serious is that leak with Optimus? Really."

She ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. "I don't know for sure. He's right about it not being a lot of energon lost, even over a few days. It's the where that's worrying me. I don't know if this is like a graze for a pregnant person or a ruptured placenta. Ratchet threw a lot of information at me but a leak I can't patch wasn't covered."

"Well, what did he tell you?" Sam asked, resting a hand on her back and beginning to rub her spine in slow strokes.

Mikaela looked between the three men, and though they were all wearing sunglasses it was obvious that all attention was on her. "Stuff I didn't think I'd actually have to use," she admitted finally, though was uneasy to go on.

Lennox came to squat in front of her, elbows resting on his thighs. "Like what?"

Her jaw tightened as if her mouth were sealing the words in. Truthfully it wasn't a secret, but saying it aloud felt like inviting it somehow. "How to manage a labour, or a miscarriage. He said those were the two worst-case scenarios whilst we were out here."

"I thought he was almost two weeks off being due?" Epps asked, his tone coming off as more accusing than he'd intended. "And isn't the thing about machines that they're reliable about details like that?"

"Well, yeah, but these machines are alive," Mikaela replied with raised brows, as if that were an obvious fact. "No one can predict that. If his systems decide that the sparkling is better off out than in, then it'll start the labour sequence and that's unstoppable."

Lennox pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture he knew full well he'd picked up from Optimus. "Okay, so worst case scenario the babe wants to come early. What are we talking about here? Is this like a Twix dropping out of a machine or human childbirth?"

Despite the seriousness of the subject, Mikaela's nose crinkled with a laugh at the comparison. "Somewhere in the middle. Like how a woman needs to dilate and the baby turns to face down first, his components will have to rearrange so that the sparkling can come out."

"So, worst comes to worst he can do it on his own?" Epps asked, looking between Lennox and Mikaela. "I mean, he's done it once already, right? With Tempest."

Sam shook his head with a groan, sitting back a little. "That was more like an emergency C-section in the middle of a battlefield whilst Megatron was stomping across to shoot them and take the baby."

"And Ratchet's said that that was a rushed job before the labour sequence had had a chance to finish. It nearly killed him," Mikaela added, clearly recalling how Ratchet had described those events to her. As part of her training as an assistant medic, Ratchet had deemed it important for her to know how things worked at their worst as well as in optimum circumstances. In a Medbay with a trained medic, delivery was straightforward and over quickly after the sequence had run, which in itself took about eight hours. In a hostile environment without the luxury of time, it became in equal parts a race against leaks and an application of pure brute force. She shook her head, reassuring herself once more that that wouldn't happen.

"Sam."

Optimus's voice made them all jump and Sam flashed a guilty smile before jogging inside the tomb. Stepping past the trailing leads of the lights and then deeper, he stopped with his arms wrapped about himself a little way from Magnus's foot looking up at the slightly taller mech. This place gave him the creeps on a fundamental level, let alone whilst they were effectively cutting away body pieces to take back with them. "Yeah Optimus?"

Unaware of the conversation he'd been the topic of outside, the mech knelt and held out a house brick sized chunk of protomatter. "Please take this outside. I wish to know if it remains intact."

Taking some comfort from the fact that the chunk looked and felt a bit like a cinder block, Sam obligingly took it to the threshold and, after a pause, stepped out onto the flagstones. The protomatter in his hands promptly disintegrated into ash which dispersed in the breeze up into his face. Sam's stomach twisted as he coughed. "Dead Prime… in my mouth." An exchanged look of horror with Mikaela before he doubled over, still coughing. "Oh Christ..."

Heavy footfalls didn't halt his coughing fit though he did back away and look up, meeting Optimus's troubled optics. The mech held a proportionally sized chunk in his own hand and held it out through the gap, further than Sam had taken his sample. The protomatter remained solid and he sighed, lowering his hand to deposit the piece in the first open container. His backstrut was already hurting. "It seems I'll have to physically remove it from the tomb myself. This… could take time." A thoughtful sound before he vanished back through the doorway and into the tomb, followed by Magnus's cutting saw falling silent as the news was relayed.

"Great," Epps drawled, rubbing his forehead and walking to the edge of the flagstones. "Not only is the boss now leaking and on the verge of giving birth, but he's doing all the heavy lifting." A glance over the apparently-endless expanse of desert. "Yeah, this is gonna go swell."

* * *

When night comes I find myself too worn to combat Magnus's insistence of rest to continue working as I had planned, sitting against the wall outside the tomb with the desert before me and absorbing blackness speckled with stars above me. He and I harvested from two sources (the only wording that doesn't completely twist my tanks to describe what we're doing) today and the substance was flown out by helicopter an hour ago. It will land and the containers will be loaded onto a plane to be flown overseas and back to the Base, where hopefully Starscream and Ratchet will be able to use it immediately. Based on how much we removed today and how much Starscream told me he needed, I approximate another four Primes.

Reaffirming that fact also reaffirms my protoform-deep exhaustion, and I rest my helm back against the stone. The soldiers not on watch duty are asleep in tents, as are Sam and Mikaela, Magnus has elected to work inside the tomb for another hour, and I have been left in peace. My processor is too restless for recharge, though, as much as it is sorely required.

The leaking in my chassis has not ceased or slowed, but has remained such an insubstantial trickle that I pay it little mind, especially as it seems that it is doing no harm to the sparkling. My son is incredibly active, though, far worse than Tempest was during his final weeks. I can only guess that it is all the physical drama of late and that he will settle again soon. I hope so, at least. Without Ironhide's presence it is more pain than agitating discomfort.

We had decided not to leave the bond fully open between us whilst I was here, worried that the transmission of pain and anxiety over a distance impossible to close again with any immediacy would be both distracting and torturous. As I'm supposed to be recharging, and at this hour in the time zone Ironhide should be too, I send a gentle nudge to him.

His response is immediate and startled. :Optimus? What's wrong? Did something happen?:

I can't help but chuckle a dry laugh. :No, everything's fine. It's going well. The first shipment of protomatter is on its way and should be in Starscream and Ratchet's hands by tomorrow night.;

A sigh of relief, significant enough for me to perceive over the relatively soundless connection. :What about you? Are you and the sparkling okay?:

It's only a momentary thought to tell him about the split line, but it is such a trivial thing that he will doubtless transform into a disaster simply because neither he nor Ratchet can get to me. Shuttering my optics with a smile, I settle for, :Both in good shape. He's been brutal in his punishment for all the travelling we've done.:

:Glad to hear it: he grunts, a wash of concern and love underlying the words. :One of those processors had to have some sense.:

The sparkling twists to roll again, using the Matrix as a brace for its feet. I grit my dentals and rub over the already-bruised area just as he grinds against it. :How's Tempest?:

:Missing you, but me and Screamer are getting by with him. He's holding up alright to the necrosis where Ratchet was all scared for him.: A pause as he seems to simply enjoy the feel of our bond reopened, and I too relax into the warm sensation. :All the Seekers' had their wings removed, which helped.:

Given the sensitivity of those parts, I can perfectly understand why. :I see.:

A shunted laugh. :Fun times.:

Magnus's cutting blades have gone quiet inside the tomb, and I make to get up but a savage kick into my spark case has me rethink the move. I will likely be admonished by the well-meaning soldier for not recharging, and it's been too long since Ironhide and I have spoken. :How're things at the Base?:

:As expected. Frequently too loud, occasionally unsettlingly quiet, only with everyone sick. A few bots, like Jazz, are pretty much stuck in the Medbay now.:

I can imagine it, and it makes me glad that we've already sent one shipment of protomatter back. :What about you? How's your leg?:

:I've got a brace on it. That helps. I can put up with it for a while yet.:

He won't expand on it more than that, I know, and I rub my optics. :Hopefully Starscream will make quick work of figuring out how to use the Primes' protomatter.:

:Don't doubt it. He's figuring out on his own protomatter first.:

His tone, both certain and a little admiring, surprises me infinitely more than the fact that Starscream is experimenting on himself. I had hoped for an amicable working relationship between them, but it sounds like Ironhide is finally coming to respect Tempest's guardian. :That's…:

:Starscream: he interrupts with a 'tuh' that is far more characteristic of their relationship.

Silence aside from the low drone from the winds across the sand dunes and the _schlucht_ of our son fidgeting. I look up to the stars, knowing that my sparkmate would be seeing the same ones if he were outside. :I miss you.:

A rumbled purr from his engine. :I love you.:

I smile, tapping back to the sparkling when he kicks. :That too.:

:How's Magnus holding up?:

My smile turns dry and I roll my optics habitually. :Fretting worse than you, if that's possible.:

:Glad to hear it: he replies, and it's clear in his voice that he is. His tone drops again, coming into my mind softly. :You sound tired. You should be recharging.:

:I was waiting for that.: The whine of the saw begins again from the tomb and I suppress a shiver at the image of Magnus sinking it into another Prime's body . :We should shut the bond again.:

:Yeah. We should.: It's an agreement softened with reluctance.

Bringing my knee up and resting my wrist on it, I settle against the stone wall again and press back against the sparkling. :Rest well, 'Hide. I love you.:

:You too. Both of you.:

We both linger silently with the open bond before I take the initiative and seal it from my end, feeling the presence of his mind fade immediately afterwards as he does the same. Evidentially tired from its exertions and finally comfortable in the increasingly cramped space, the sparkling stills with what I estimate to be its shoulder against my hand. With a final scan over the vicinity, I shutter my optics and sink into recharge.


	11. Chapter 11

Family Matters

_Chapter Eleven_

Sam balanced on each leg in turn to tip the Sahara out of his shoes whilst Mikaela watched, smiling over a thermos cup of coffee made over the mini-stove minutes ago. The teen arched a brow at her whilst he wrestled with his laces. "You know, I've been here twice now, both times for some life-saving visit to the Prime's tomb, and you know what I've figured out?" She shook her head and he finished with his shoes, straightening to place his hands on his hips. "I hate sand."

"I hate how it gets stuck everywhere," Mikaela agreed, running a hand across her grainy scalp with a grimace, her fingers quickly tangling in her hair. "Optimus and Magnus can't like it much, either, getting in between their parts."

"At least they're inside and out of the sand storms," Sam reasoned, turning to regard the stone structure they are camped against. The soldiers had all been missing when they awoke and the mechs were already working, so they had lingered by the tents for the time being. "Think we should go inside and see how they're doing?"

Mikaela's mouth pulled uneasily, her forehead furrowed. "I don't know. It's a pretty awful thing they're having to do when you think about it. Maybe they just want to be left to get on with it."

Sam cocked his head with a quirked smile. "Or maybe they could use the distraction. I mean, Magnus was at it all night and Optimus already had enough on his plate before he had to go grave robbing his ancestors to cure his people." A frown as that replayed in his head. "Okay, maybe they do want to be left alone."

Grinning at his sweetly endearing inability to make a decision on the matter, Mikaela took his hand and tugged him towards the tomb. "We can at least say 'good morning' to them."

They only got a few steps towards the doorway when Lennox's jogging form caught their attention. The soldier had a radio to his ear and waved for them to stop, clearly troubled. Sam called out before he reached them. "Is everything okay?"

Scuffing to a halt in the sand, Lennox slipped the still-burbling radio into his pocket and shook his head. "Bit of a clusterfuck happening at the perimeter. The Egyptian military were giving us grief anyway for cordoning off the area for two years, but they came in with Abrams tanks as a bit of muscle this morning. Turns out our secret drop-in wasn't so secret. It's not turned into a fire-fight, but it's getting hard to keep them away."

"What happens if they do start firing?" Sam asked as his gaze swept across the dunes, catching on a haze of dark smoke rising from one point. The exhausts of the tanks, apparently.

Lennox gave a half shrug, smiling grimly. "Well if they did decide to start off an 'incident' between our governments by firing on us friendlies, we're basically screwed. We came in light and fast because this was supposed to be a quick and quiet in-out operation. We've got nothing like the firepower they're packing on our doorstep."

"We've got two huge Autobots," Mikaela suggested, their potential for intimidation at the fore of her mind. She knew as well as any of them that Optimus wouldn't fire on humans, and that Magnus wouldn't be allowed to either.

"That's what worries me," Lennox replied softly, rubbing a hand across his eyes that were already watering from the sandy breeze. "The Egyptian army is well-stocked, yeah, but there isn't any sense in them sending three tanks unless they know that Optimus and Ultra Magnus are here. The sooner we get out of here the better. I can get Chinooks here inside an hour, but I don't know when they think we'll be finished. If-"

He was cut off by a bellowed shout of pain from inside the tomb, obviously suppressed as soon as the mech who made it could clamp down on the sound. All sounds of work stopped and there was a ringing silence following the cry, though the three humans were already running. Lennox stopped just short of the Prime's bodies inside the tomb, looking between both kneeling Autobots as Sam and Mikaela slid to a halt a few feet beyond him.

To their mingled surprise and relief, it was not Optimus who had cried out. The commander was supporting Magnus with one hand on his chest, the other on his right arm and apparently bearing the weight of the blackened limb. His optics were bright with concern, and he spoke in the rapid shorthand clicks of their native language whilst Magnus nodded wearily.

Noticing the humans, Optimus looked to them as he opened a compartment in his thigh and removed a vial of fluid. "The necrosis has degraded Magnus's shoulder joint to the point of fracture." He stabbed the end of the vial into a gap in the mech's right chest plates, eliciting a grunt from Magnus before his shoulders sagged. "He cannot continue to assist."

"Afraid I've got some more bad news," Lennox intoned, venturing deeper into the room and forcibly keeping his gaze on the kneeling mech. Peripherally he saw the huge blackened sections where chunks had been sawn out of the petrified bodies. "The local military have decided we've outstayed our welcome. We're not going to be able to keep them at bay for much longer without shots being fired. How long do you need to finish excavating?"

Rising to stand as Magnus did, cradling the useless arm to his chassis, Optimus motioned to the pile of protoform blocks gathered to one side of the tomb. "It is less than we'd hoped to come away with, but it should be sufficient baring errors in its use. We can leave as soon as you are able to arrange transport."

Lennox gave a firm nod, reaching for the radio. "Great. One hour it is. I'll tell the others. Get this stuff boxed and netted. We might be getting airlifted out as quickly as we came in."

As the soldier jogged back out, Sam folded his arms with a wince. "Great, a backwards skydive."

After giving the taller teen a sympathetic smile and touch to his shoulder, Mikaela looked to Optimus and approached the slim mech. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

He nodded immediately. "If you and Sam could seal the severed lines in Magnus's shoulder and find some way to stabilise the break, it would be much appreciated."

"Sure thing," Mikaela affirmed with a reassuring smile up to the silent mech. A glance to Optimus was all Magnus needed to nod his consent and follow the teen out, leaving Sam alone with the remaining mech.

"You sure you're going to be okay moving all this on your own?" Sam asked with an uneasy glance to the pile of grey blocks, quickly adding, "With the leak and all?"

A rumble escaped from Optimus's vents, though it was not irritated. His expression was strangely unreadable, moreso than usual behind the mask. "It cannot be helped, and yes Sam, I will be fine. I shall look forward to several hours on a plane not doing very much afterwards, but I'll be fine. Thank you."

Pursing his lips, Sam nodded at the answer and turned to jog after Mikaela and Magnus. Alone in the tomb, Optimus rubbed his shuttered optics and rested a hand on the stack of protomatter, wincing when the sparkling delivered a hard kick. This was going to be a long hour.

* * *

When the six containers of protomatter finally arrived from Egypt, there was no room in the Medbay for them and they'd had to go into Wheeljack's lab. Starscream had been quietly grateful for the move to the most isolated part of the Base, finding it far easier to concentrate in the devoted lab. He was not alone, however. With his femoral strut failing in the night, Ironhide was relegated to sitting and assisting the scientist whom had now largely lost the use of his hands.

"You sure Ratchet can get everyone back from this?" Ironhide asked softly as he ran a fine laser cutter through the length of the grey sample, boring a cylinder through its centre.

Hands hanging in the space between his legs as he sat, Starscream made a soft sound of agreement, optics narrowed on the dark mech's hands. "This is all still reversible. He estimates another three days before the necrosis advances to the disintegration phase, at which point it's slagged."

The channel made, Ironhide set the laser aside and held it out for Starscream to inspect, turning it slowly. They'd been working together for going on fifteen hours now, and though not enjoying Starscream's company he was impressed by him. When he wasn't screeching, the Seeker wasn't a terrible bot to be around and was a peculiar centre of knowing calm in the midst of this disease. "And what do you think?"

Starscream's mouth quirked in a grim smile, nodding his approval of the work. "I think that's optimistic. It's closer to two, but I know what I'm doing now and should have a viable cure by the end of today." He nodded towards an array of fine metal needles piled on a silver tray, each one millimetres wide and only an inch long. "Alright, you need to feed those into the hole all the way through."

Ironhide considered the thickness of his fingers and the delicate look of the needles with a grimace. The Seeker's hands were ruined, though, so he just had to be careful. Locating the long tweezers on the workbench, he picked up the first needle and examined it in the light. "Does this need doing for every bit of protomatter?"

The Seeker shuddered and brought up his arm to cough into the joint, swallowing back the energon that had seeped through into his corroded air lines. "No, I can activate it all from this one. Start from the middle and work your way back. There should be a gap through the centre of them to feed the probe through later."

Shifting on the chair with a grimace at how it made the scorching pain in his leg flared white, Ironhide rested the protomatter on a stand and slowly put the first needle inside. In the middle, he bit his glossa and twitched his hand down, impaling the fibre into the metal softened by the laser's residual heat. "This is gonna take a while."

"I know," Starscream replied softly, coughing again. "I'll need to run more calculations before we can administer the probe anyway, though. This is a lot denser than my protomatter was."

There was no doubt in Ironhide's mind that the Seeker would accommodate the discrepancy successfully and he simply nodded, carefully lifting the second needle. His processor ached as much as his joints, the necrosis sinking into old scars and weaker welds, but he was no stranger to having to concentrate through pain. This would be hard but it was perfectly doable. Truthfully the scientist opposite concerned him more. Starscream had almost completely changed colour with no single plate left untouched by the black webs. He was also used to pain, though, so they kept working without speaking of it.

Neither of them looked up when the doors to the warehouse opened and Ratchet came inside, slowly approaching the workbench via a meandering path through stacks of cold protomatter. His hands were significantly worse than Starscream's, but he'd already found ways around that through the extensions of examination and repair parts that could emerge from his arms. It wasn't perfect but it allowed him to continue to service the bots.

Taking in the two mechs and the equipment between them, it didn't take him long to work out that they were looking at a very long and delicate task. Extending two vials of pain suppressant from his bicep, he fed out a line to lower them to the table beside Ironhide's elbow. "You might want to think about recharging at some point, as well."

"Later," Starscream muttered with a glower at the vials, his darkened optics flicking up to the medic. "And don't think I'm going to use that. I'm running eight thousand calculations to reactivate this stuff. I can't have my processor fogged with drugs. I need to think. Besides, you're not taking any."

Ratchet gave an admonishing click but did not touch the vials. "Do as I say, not as I do." A glance to Ironhide whom was installing another needle, jaw tight as he kept his hands from trembling, and the medic sighed a little. "Good luck, you two. If you need any more help in here just comm.."

"Ironhide's doing fine," Starscream murmured with a vague nod intended to shoo the hovering mech out. Ratchet's concern and weariness were thick and cloying, inviting his own anxieties to the surface where they would only serve as a hindrance.

To his credit, Ratchet took the unspoken instruction and retreated back out of the lab. Starscream waited for Ironhide to withdraw the tweezers from the protomatter before reaching over and picking up both vials between the heels of his hands, stabbing them down into the mech's extended arm with a hiss. They emptied instantly and he dropped them to the floor, grimacing with narrowed optics at the agony doing that had brought. To Ironhide's glare, he forced a smirk. "Oops."

The mech shook his head but couldn't immediately complain as the edge of the searing pain was taken off, sagging his shoulders. "I thought you said we needed to concentrate on this?"

"I need to concentrate," Starscream corrected archly. "The spanner doesn't need to think. Anyway, it'll help keep your hands steady."

Despite himself Ironhide smiled, thin and grim, taking up the next needle from the pile of at least one hundred and guiding it into the tunnel. "So, eight thousand calculations, huh?"

Starscream's mouth tightened as he sat back, tipping his head back. "And a couple more."

"I figured," came the murmured reply. Ironhide glanced to the Seeker and found his optics to be shuttered though from the buzzing in his helm he could tell Starscream was far from recharge. Settling in for a quiet few hours performing a very repetitive task, Ironhide brushed the bond softly before shutting it out of his mind.

* * *

Optimus had the protomatter boxed and secured in the cargo nets ready to be hooked and lifted out inside an hour. The Egyptian army, however, did not give them an hour though the soldiers assured them that they'd be gone inside that window. Indeed, once Lennox had conveyed that they were leaving imminently the tanks had suddenly charged forwards through the blockade and begun to climb over the dunes. It was at this point that Lennox realised that they were here for the mechs, one way or another, and hadn't finished calling his soldiers back over the radio before he'd run to the mech's feet.

"It's hit the fan," he shouted up, one hand moving to rest on the rifle slung at his side. "And they're coming in hot. The choppers are still ten minutes away."

"We'll be ready," Optimus replied firmly, looking to the tomb's entrance where Magnus sat with Mikaela standing on his hip, taping over the lines and cables that had been severed when the central strut in his arm gave. He touched his finial, ignoring the aching twist in his chassis. _Magnus, we're departing in ten minutes under potential fire._

Magnus looked up and met his optics, requesting that Mikaela and Sam retreat to a safe distance to allow him to stand. _Decepticons?_

The Prime's mouth twitched in a grimace behind the mask. In some ways, Decepticons would have been preferable. _No, the local human militia. We cannot harm them. They are only defending their territory against what they perceive as a threat._

Getting to his feet, Magnus began a slow approach with Sam and Mikaela trailing behind him. _If they fire on you though, Prime-_

_You will not retaliate_, Optimus finished flatly, turning to face the other mech fully. _We do not harm humans, Magnus. It is one of the many things that differs us from the Decepticons._

Magnus frowned as if stung by the reminder. _Of course, Prime, but I detect significant incoming firepower and you are vulnerable, as is the cargo we must transport out of here safely._

Optimus pressed the point between his optics with a sigh, knowing full well that Magnus was right and not savouring the fact at all. _Heed me, Magnus. Do not fire on the humans. Our priority is to get Sam, Mikaela and Lennox's men out of danger, then the protomatter, and finally ourselves._

It was not an order of priority that he agreed with, but Magnus nodded without hesitation. He couldn't have anticipated any different order from Prime. "Yes Sir."

"Uh, could you guys clue us in?" Sam called up from the giant bots' feet, one hand shielding his eyes though they were already protected by his shades.

"Forgive us, Sam," Optimus replied, bending on one knee and lowering his optics to the two humans. The change in posture released the well of energon that had formed from the leak in his chassis, and it slipped out between his plates to spatter in the sand. "We were merely discussing how best to depart if the tanks reach us before Lennox's helicopters do."

"I'm guessing… fast?" Sam broached with a wry smile, running a hand through his hair when Optimus murmured an affirmative. "We'll be ready."

"As shall we," Magnus added in a baritone rumble, his own expression grim but focussed.

Magnus and I have managed the awkward task of transforming inside a cargo net without breaking it, opting to disguise ourselves in vehicle mode before the tanks come ready to be winched up by the incoming helicopters. I have detected them less than a mile away and closing in fast, three incoming to lift away ourselves, our cargo and the humans – and hopefully before the tanks arrive. To them we shall appear to simply be an unusual cargo to be flown out of the middle of the desert, and they will hesitate to fire upon us.

The helicopters haven't reached us before I'm proven wrong. Coming up and settling on the cusp of a sand dune, the first tank swings its barrel past the collected protomatter towards me. I tense which makes the sparkling flutter with movement beneath my cab, and then the shell booms out with a resounding echo. I've no choice but to transform and roll sideways, drawing the potential follow-up shot away from the humans and the protomatter.

Magnus also explodes out of his alt mode, instinctively bearing a cannon on the tank but withdrawing it at my barked order to stand down. The two tanks that had been following appear on the dune and all three descend at speed. To my right the soldiers shout to one another as Magnus and I form a barrier between them and the tanks. His optics flicker towards me. _Orders?_

We both duck and run to the side as we feel their weapons lock onto us again, outrunning their shells by mere feet. _Disable the turrets but do not harm the humans inside. These aren't Decepticons we're dealing with._

The helicopters roar overhead as we sprint towards the incoming armoured vehicles, slowed by the shifting sand but still reaching them within seconds. Seizing the main guns of the closest two, we bend the metal back on itself to neutralise the vehicles without compromising their integrity. The final tank manages to fire before either of us can reach it, the shell slamming through my side and out into Magnus's shoulder.

We both stumble back with a spray of energon, braced for the inevitable following shot and unnerved when it doesn't come. Assuming them to be deterred and with the helicopters now on the ground, we make to sprint back regardless of our injuries. The cargo net containing the protomatter containers has been secured and is lifting off the ground with the first helicopter. Lennox is guiding Sam and Mikaela into the second whilst shouting for us.

Magnus reaches the helicopter hovering just above his head and grasps the lowered harness chain with his good hand, ready to be lifted. He turns to watch me follow, and I'm warned of the incoming attack by his suddenly wide optics as much as from the sound of the weapon being fired.

It is not a shell that the final tank sends out. It does not explode on contact, nor deal a percussive blow. Instead, the harpoon-like spear lances and becomes lodged through my left leg from the force of its delivery, sending me down. My visual processor registers flashing lights as my chassis slams into the ground, crushing pressurised lines and splitting the wound across my rib struts wider. The sparkling slams down like a dead weight, motionless once momentum leaves it.

Though stunned, my voice across the comm. remains firm and even. _Get away, Magnus. Take the protomatter with you._

I do not hear his 'yes Sir', nor the commotion on the other helicopter between the humans. Forcing my systems to function around the damage, I heave up onto my feet and turn on the remaining tank – now bearing down on me with an unknown missile ready to be fired. It is only a few staggered steps to reach it, even when it begins to track backwards from me, and I twist its gun barrel back as I had the others. The danger is not passed, though, as my sensors warn of more armoured vehicles closing in.

"Optimus!"

Sam's shout makes me turn sharply enough to groan, pressing a hand to my ruined side. He, Mikaela and Lennox have abandoned the helicopters and are running towards me. Lennox shouts to me as he runs: "We've gotta go! They've got air force units incoming as well."

The helicopters cannot linger or they will be at risk of being shot down, and with them Magnus and the cure for many Autobots. I convey an order for immediate departure through him and watch as the two helicopters obediently veer away after the third. Marshalling away the pain, I stoop on the run to capture the humans within my hands. There are rock structures less than a mile away we can take shelter in, and where I can find out why they neglected their safety to remain.

My spark pulses hot and hard, swollen from concern for the cure being flown out and overtaxed from the strain of my systems as I run across the sand. I keep my hands closed together as gently as possible, but I can still feel the humans being knocked into my plates. A shot fired and a spray of sand erupts from the dune beside me reaffirms my decision to retreat. The cure is going to the Base and Magnus is safe. Barring the humans and the state of my own body, things are okay.

Tempest and Ironhide will be okay.

Despite the danger and pain, a corner of my processor is tugged towards the sparkling lying still in my chassis. It lives, but it is disturbed. Hopefully this will be something Mikaela can assist with.


	12. Chapter 12

Family Matters

_Chapter 12_

Against expectation it was not Sam who jumped back down from the helicopter before it took off, but Mikaela. Seeing Optimus crashing down again, and cringing at the groan of battered metal as his chassis compacted against the sand, she'd not hesitated to abandon the escape and sprint across the sand towards him. Sam shouted after her and followed, not knowing what he was intending to do outside of not leaving her alone. Dragging her back to the Chinook or helping Optimus with her was not a decision that entered his mind. The only coherent decision was made by Lennox, the soldier swearing after the well-meaning civilians as he too leapt down and ran after them, bellowing for them to come back.

The sand blown up by Optimus's body slamming into the ground reached them seconds later, causing them all to stop with raised arms and turned heads as they coughed against the grains. Thunderous footfalls and then they were all scooped up and crushed against each other in metal hands, throwing their arms up to shield their heads as the cocoon shuddered with the mech's running.

"What the hell?" Lennox shouted over the sounds of explosions outside their black box. "Are you two okay?"

"Peachy," Mikaela snapped from her curled position again the soldier's side, his rifle jabbing her in the ribs as she unsuccessfully tried to stabilise herself with outstretched arms against Optimus's fingers. "Sam?"

"I'm not hurt," he coughed around what felt like a lungful of sand, but was really only a few grains clogged in phlegm. Heaped over their legs, he was not in anything remotely like a comfortable position. "Beginning to think that this was a stupid idea, though."

"I couldn't leave him, Sam," Mikaela shouted over a fresh volley of crashes and a mechanical whine, everything somehow amplified by being in the shaking dark. "We can't-"

"Alright, shut up both of you and just cover your heads," Lennox ordered over the teens, finding a rise in the metal in front of him to brace his feet against whilst one arm encircled his head. He couldn't hear the clanking from the tanks anymore, nor the rumble of the helicopters. After a few minutes, all sound but the jerking whine of Optimus's systems and of him running through the sand was gone. Save the grunts of pain as they were bashed around and against each other within his enclosed hands, that was.

After what seemed like an eternity in a rapidly heating pile of limbs, the three humans found their shaking world coming to a decelerating halt before a split appeared in their cocoon and a sliver of bright sunlight poured in. Optimus's face blocked it moments later, his optics blazing and narrowed on them. "What were you thinking?"

Lennox untangled himself from the teens and got to his feet as Optimus opened his hands fully, leaving them standing across his palms and using his curled fingers to stay upright. "I ran after them."

Sam simply shook his head from where he sat, rubbing at what felt like a big bump on the back of his head and continuing to cough. Mikaela met the mech's demanding stare without hesitation. "You were hurt and there was no way we were going to leave you alone."

There was a click behind the battle mask that suggested he'd opened his mouth to speak but gave up with a shake of his head before a sound came out. It would be a futile and completely pointless argument, accomplishing nothing when there was much they needed to work out. Kneeling from where he had been standing with his back lent against the rock face inside a narrowing crevice, Optimus lowered his hands to the ground to let them down. "Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary," he admitted at last, withdrawing his hands into his lap when all three humans stood facing him again.

"Yeah, we'll talk about 'unnecessary' once I've taken a look at your leg," Mikaela replied pointedly, gesturing to his left calf that still had a sizable harpoon trailing a splintered cable through it. He was resting all his weight onto his right leg though attempting to disguise it. There was no disguising the large pool of energon gathered about his feet, though, from his side and leg as well as the existing leak in his chassis.

Noting their stares upon the fluid, Optimus waved a hand. "I've largely sealed the ruptured lines, now, and the damage from the weapon was superficial." The protest sounded weak to his own audios and they weren't convinced. He shook his head with a sigh, his voice lowering. "We need to move deeper into this rock structure if we are to avoid capture. It will be quicker if I carry you."

"Alright then," Lennox agreed, watching as the large hands were lowered like platforms to them again. Once lifted, they were offered to his shoulder to perch on his plates between metal struts and piping. The view, though improved, was not long-reaching to the soldier's eyes. Optimus had carried them into a maze of rocky hills and sand dunes that rose far taller than the mech, disguising them from pursuit but not giving them much by way of a route to anywhere other than lost. Holding onto a shoulder pipe, he turned to look into the blue optics. "They'll be able to track your heat signature, so our best bet is to get somewhere inaccessible until we can be rescued. More than likely we'll have to let the heat die down a little before another chopper can come in."

"I have three days of food and water provisions still stored for you," Optimus replied by way of agreement, shifting a few parts in his shoulder to check his passengers were secure. Satisfied, he shiftedhis weight off his injured leg and sunk his fingers into the rock face, beginning to climb. If they went where the tanks could not follow, they'd be safe in the short term.

At the top of the first rocky hill, the humans had fallen into a pensive silence on his shoulder. He took advantage of the easier walk towards the next crevice and the quiet to touch on the bond.

:'Hide?:

As the bond opened, a sickly sense of a corrosive pain crept over him and made his tanks twist.

:Optimus. It's good to hear you.: Ironhide's tone was equally weary and anxious. :Are you on your way back to Base?:

Unconsciously, Optimus touched a hand to his chassis, still unnerved by the sparkling's stillness. :No. There was an altercation with the local militia. Magnus is returning to Base with the last of the protomatter. Captain Lennox, Sam, Mikaela and myself are retreating into the mountains to avoid pursuit.:

The bond flashed hot. :Is anyone coming for you?:

Behind the face mask, the mech's jaw tightened. It wasn't merely the fact that they were essentially stranded in the middle of the desert under pursuit, but there was no way for them to be found. :Lennox's radio was damaged in the attack and our location will be changing to keep ahead of the tanks. My own beacon has been compromised.:

A long, heavy silence across the bond. When Ironhide finally spoke he sounded resolved. :I can find you with our bond.:

Despite himself and the direness of the situation, Optimus couldn't help but breath a laugh. :You're hardly in any state to come to my rescue. Has Starscream even finalised a viable cure?:

:He's working on it, and no slagging way am I leaving you out there. Find cover and keep your head down. Once Starscream's done and I get a transfusion, I'm coming for you,: Ironhide rumbled flatly, leaving no room in his tone for dispute. In a softer voice, he asked :Is the sparkling okay?:

Faceplates tightening, Optimus found his gaze on the sandy rocks he was navigated with his wide feet. Every step he took threatened to slide them sideways, and the constant balance adjustments were making existing aches even more pronounced. :He's okay. Shaken up, I fear, but not harmed.: A sigh as he reached a precipice, too wide for him to leap and deep enough that he could already feel the ache.

Ironhide sensed the change. :Conserve power,: he advised, clearly wanting to ask the extent of his sparkmate's inevitable injuries but knowing that he wouldn't be wholly forthcoming any way. :I can track you without the bond being active. Be safe. I love you.:

:Love you too. Good luck,: Optimus breathed, touching the space between his shuttered optics and sighing when the bond receded into nothing but a presence of itself. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

I would admit it only to myself, but our retreat into the mountains was torturous. Against Mikaela's insistence we travelled throughout the night, as I knew in my circuits that once we stopped for morethan a few minutes it was likely I wouldn't be able to get up again. Though Ratchet had forced me to leave with nothing less than a full tank, the time we'd spent here excavating protomatter in the tomb had already used a significant portion, and I lost more in the attack. More than that, the sparkling is growing rapidly and continuing to consume vast amounts of energon to grow despite my dwindling supplies. I've powered down everything I can, but what I have left will last as long as the human's water will.

For the sake of things, I have not informed them of this, though if Mikaela continues in this vein to remove the harpoon, I shall likely end up telling her anything she wants to know. We have found a shallow cavern in which to shelter from the sun, and after assisting me in sealing the ruptures in my side she turned her attention to my leg.

"It's gone straight through a bundle of neural wires," she tells me, though I'd already figured out as much from the flashes of agony her pulling at it is eliciting. "I can't get it out unless I cut through them."

Sat with my damaged leg outstretched and my hand to my side, I am not exactly the picture of an Autobot commander. I speak through my fist against my mouth. "Cut them, Mikaela. Ratchet can replace them later."

It takes her seconds to cut through the main neural lines in my leg, rendering the limb largely numb from the knee down. Lennox and Sam assist her in pulling the body of the harpoon out and I make quick work of soldering off the exposed lines to preserve energon.

"How's the babe?" Lennox asks as I withdraw the laser from my smoking leg.

I consider my words and finally settle for, "Unharmed."

"Not moving, huh?" My surprised optics meet his and he shrugs, his expression sympathetic and grim. "I was on your shoulder all night and I didn't hear so much as a kick. Flying out here, it was doing summersaults every few minutes."

"Optimus?" Sam asks, his voice at a higher pitch than normal.

Sitting back against the stone wall, I find my hand drawn to my chassis. "It continues to draw power and is undamaged as best as I can tell. I cannot explain why it has been still, though it is… concerning me."

Lennox runs a hand through his hair, averting his gaze. "I'll say."

"Can you call Ratchet and get his opinion?" Mikaela asks, adjusting the gloves and overalls she has been wearing for her own protection from my systems.

I shake my head. "My communications array was damaged in the attack."

"What about your bond with Ironhide?" Sam asks, moving away from the harpoon to stand at my foot. "Is that working?"

"That will remain until one of our sparks is extinguished, and I have already contacted him and informed him of our situation. Once Starscream has administered the protoform cure, he will come for us. At present he is suffering too much with the necrosis, and Starscream still requires his assistance." As much as his voice is a comfort, I know better than to disturb him and have left the bond since we spoke yesterday. I could not offer anything more than this news about our sparkling. To the humans I find myself gesturing helplessly. "I've run diagnostic scans as best I can, but…"

"Do you want me to take a look?" Mikaela asks with a small smile.

Rather than sliding onto my back for her, I extend my hand to raise her. "That would be much appreciated, thank you."

Several silent minutes later, the quickening of Mikaela's pulse cases me to tense before she speaks. She crawls back out to sit on her heels, taking the torch from her mouth with energon-stained gloves. "Most of the umbilical lines have been torn. He's not taking very much energon from you – it's just leaking out around him. He's okay though. I can see his spark."

"Can he stay in there?" Lennox asks from where he is stood at my knee, his arms folded.

"For the time being, yeah." Mikaela gets to her feet and rests a hand on my thumb. "With this much damage, though, your systems might try to go into early labour, especially if your energon starts to run too low."

Sam is moving back to try and see, but I am already resealing my chassis. "Will you both be okay?"

Lowering Mikaela back down, I try to place more assurance into my voice than I feel. If it were only my own systems to be concerned about, my mind would be comparatively peaceful. "Labour is a natural process even several days premature. It is not as dangerous or complicated as attempting to induce labour if my systems decide on it themselves. The sparkling is strong enough to survive outside my body at any rate."

"But it may not even happen," Sam confirms flatly, brows raised.

I nod, my vents hissing out wearily. "Correct."

His tone doesn't change. "But what if it does?"

"We'll deal," Mikaela answers before looking to me. "It'll be okay."

Sam nods, though clearly no more reassured than I given the circumstances. He crosses to Lennox whom is examining his radio. "How're we looking for getting rescued?"

I have already scanned the device and know what Lennox will say. "My radio's completely dead. I don't think even Mikaela can fix it."

"Ironhide will bring NEST soldiers for a rescue and locate us using our bond," I assure, raising a demonstrative hand. "We are inaccessible by the Egyptian militia here, so our best course of action is to conserve our energy and supplies. It would be wise if all three of you attempted to sleep, now. I will keep watch.:

"Are you sure, Optimus?" Sam asks, brow furrowed with a frown. There's no denying the weariness in his muscles, though, and the shadows beneath his eyes. At my nod he grants reluctant assent, looking to Lennox and Mikaela before they all seek out a comparatively comfortable place within the cavern to rest.

* * *

"Tell me you have something."

Though Ironhide knew full well that his demanding insistence for results weren't accelerating Starscream's progress, the curdling fear he felt for his sparkmate and sparkling drove him to ask again anyway. Sat where he had been for the last twenty six hours opposite the scientist at the workbench, his hands were strangely unoccupied and it enhanced his feeling of helplessness.

Starscream had plugged into the probe running through the master block of protoform via multiple wires that ran out from his helm, his optics narrowed and flickering as he concentrated on manipulating the energy field in just the right way to stimulate activation. A chirp from the machine and the protoform morphed to take on a silver shimmer. He sat back with a weary sigh. "For once, your infuriating 'are we there yet?'s are answerable with a 'yes'. I'll need to perform a transfusion to confirm that this will reverse the necrosis, of course, but I think we have it."

Ironhide nodded and lent across the table to pull the wires out from Starscream's helm as the connectors clicked closed. "Experimenting on yourself first, again?"

The Seeker gave a half smile. "Actually I was thinking of you. One transfusion and, according to my calculations, you'll be free of the necrosis and your regenerative programs will run at full capacity, meaning that by the time you reach Egypt you'll be in a state to drag Prime back."

For once, Ironhide didn't attempt to disguise a grateful smile. "If you're sure." At the other's nod he lent back to pick up a dead piece of protoform and touched it to the living column on the table. Immediately it turned silver, ready to transfuse. Starscream had instructed him on how to carry the procedure out when his hands had deteriorated beyond use.

"Do you need Ratchet to make the incision?" the Seeker asked as Ironhide cut the correct 'dosage' from one end.

"Think he's a bit busy keeping Jazz from offlining," he murmured, optics narrowing as he took up the same device he'd used three days ago to bore out a sample of Starscream's protomatter. "I can do it. We'll do you next, alright?"

"Actually I was thinking of treating someone who wouldn't mind taking me outside," Starscream relied lightly, watching impassively as the heated metal tube was forced into the dark mech's abdomen with a hiss.

"Why's that?" Ironhide rasped, grateful for the distraction as he forced the cylindrical blade down and prepared to cut the end to draw the whole tube of protomatter out.

Starscream's shoulder twitched in a half shrug, a large enough movement to make him grimace. "I've got a highly contagious disease that can only be treated through a cure we possess. I want to cuddle Megatron with it."

Pulling the protomatter out with a jerk and a repressed shout, Ironhide met the other's optics briefly before setting the tool aside and holding the newly reanimated protomatter to the wound. "You'd be dead."

"The war would be over," came the simple reply. "The necrosis would spread through the Decepticons within a matter of days. One life's a small price to pay."

Sinking the protomatter into the smoking space left by the extraction, Ironhide shook his head with gritted dentals. "We may be at war, but that's not how we do things. You're one of us now, remember? An Autobot." A grunted laugh. "Besides which 'Pest would never forgive you."

"There is that," Starscream replied with a thin smile, optics brightening with a sensor scan over the other mech.

Once the new protomatter was immersed in his own, the effect was almost immediate from Ironhide's perspective. The system-wide burn evaporated and strength returned to his limbs, though they continued to ache from stress. After several minutes, he risked standing and found his previously damaged leg willing to support him though it was a very long way from healed.

Starscream sat back with a smug grin. "Primus, I'm good."

Cutting away a second piece of the protomatter cure, Ironhide limped about the table to Starscream's side. "Alright, your turn now. I figure I can put it in that hole I already made in you the other day. Once you're up, you can help Ratch' whilst I fetch Optimus back."

A decisive nod and Starscream shifted to sit forward, exposing the dark wound in his back for the mech to see. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

The hot hours dragged in thick quiet, made complete by the damaged mech powering down as many systems as possible so that the remaining sounds his body emanated were barely louder than the wind hurling the sand about the ravine outside. After an initial period of panic over the sparkling's stillness, a day of no change had reduced the atmosphere to a simmering tension that no one wished to break. They all had to wait in the shade, exerting as little energy as possible as they waited for a NEST helicopter to find them.

There had been no contraction in Optimus's systems, only the sickly trickle of thick energon around the sparkling the only thing that was amiss with it aside from its immobility. Periodically, the mech would brush his hand over it in an attempt to stimulate movement, but none came. For the first time in weeks the sparkling wasn't kicking him, and he felt that he would give anything to change it.

The only thing bringing him any kind of relief was the growing strength of the bond, indicating that Ironhide was getting close. As night fell again, a pulse reached him with a wash of love and reassurance, the sender finally close-by.

"I have to get outside."

The mech's rumble made all three humans get up from where they had been lying in the sand, uneasy and helpless as they could do nothing but watch from a respectful distance. After an entire day sitting prone, Optimus's slow rise to his feet with one hand braced against the rock face was a testament to willpower. He was silent but for the hiss and groan of his systems, finally taking arduous steps on his injured leg out of the cavern and into the sandy ravine.

Once there, he tipped his body back to face the clear black sky and sent up the same light that Bumblebee had years ago, long before the spectacular became normal for their human allies. Minutes later there came the roaring drone of helicopters before both machines cut through the beam, circling with powerful spotlights to find somewhere to land.

Ironhide barely waited for the Chinook to begin its descent, dropping down and landing in a hard roll thirty feet from where the taller mech stood. Optimus deactivated the light as his sparkmate ran to him, welcoming the embrace even as his leg buckled with a pained shout from the force of it. Ironhide took his weight gladly as he sank to his knees, guiding them down to the sand.

"Primus, look at you," came the dark mech's rumble into an ear finial, bracing Optimus against him as he pulled a secondary fuel line from his abdomen and pressed it into a corresponding port. Within seconds there was a connective hiss and charged energon surged into the mech's system.

"It's good to see you again," Optimus sighed through his vents, feeling more wearied than he'd ever been. He felt no shame in being cradled against his sparkmate's chassis, now, struggling to think or feel anything beyond relief at seeing him again. "The cure works?"

A nod, and Ironhide rested a hand over the swollen rise of the sparkling beneath the thick armour plates. "Screamer did good. I crossed paths with Magnus bringing in the last of the protomatter on the way here, so there's enough for everyone."

With the helicopters coming down to land directly over the cavern, Optimus switched to the bond to be heard. :Did we lose anyone?:

"No. You sending the first lot of protomatter straight away saved a few lives, and the load that came with Magnus got there in time." A gentle squeeze, as if he were assuring himself that the Prime was really with him. "You did good."

"I even managed to avoid early labour," Optimus replied with a ghost of a smile, optics reopening to meet the mech's gaze. "I knew you didn't want to miss our sparkling coming into the world."

"Not for anything," Ironhide agreed with a broad grin, tapping the area lightly and chuckling when a light kick rewarded his efforts. He could tell from a gasp of sheer relief from his sparkmate that the little mech's condition had been concerning him. Tightening his grip and retracting the fuel line, Ironhide began to ease them upright again. "Come on, let's get you home."

With a grateful smile Optimus nodded his agreement and braced his systems to stand, looking back to the cavern to see Sam, Mikaela and Lennox watching a group of black-clad soldiers abseiling down the rock face to get to them. Returning his gaze to Ironhide, he blinked at the suddenly expectant look he found on the other's face. Looking down, he saw with a flush of warmth that the dark mech was holding out two rust sticks to him.


	13. Chapter 13

Family Matters

_Chapter 13_

I dreamed of dying. It didn't come as a surprise – as soldiers, we are designed to dream infrequently specifically to save us the trauma of constantly and inevitably reliving old battles. Once I was led inside the cramped space of the Chinook I offlined, and did so again after Ironhide had walked me onto the plane waiting to take us back to the Base. Death has been close to my spark since the femmes arrived, and thus the disease, and it's what my processor chose to flux about without mercy for the duration of the flight. Megatron driving a blade through my back, through my spark, is a vivid memory which I will never forget the details of: the mingling of searing and burning, of numbness flooding my systems and a coldness I've never felt before. It was then that I understood how humans could think of us as lifeless parts, as life left mine with only cold weight in its wake.

Just as I did in the desert, I wake up with vents gasping, my systems surging with energy as if in the middle of a battle. At first a part of me expected heat and sand, grinding and choking my parts, but I quickly realise that I'm in the Medbay on a warmed berth. Ratchet's hand is on my shoulder and pressing down as I shed the last vestiges of the nightmare, though the lancing pain in my chassis comes again just as strong.

"Easy, Prime," Ratchet murmurs, fingers flexing against my armour though the pressure doesn't relent. "I reattached the umbilical lines and the sparkling is now seeing fit to kick them. He'll settle once you do."

At the assurances of the sparkling's wellbeing I shutter my optics and attempt to school my systems, gritting my dentals as he kicks at the fresh welds. I need something to take my mind off the sensation as much as I need to know the state of things. "Report." It comes out clipped as I press a hand to my chassis.

Ratchet makes a soft sound and withdraws his hand. "All but those worst affected by the necrosis have been cleared of the disease, and those that are still infected are only hours away from a full recovery. No fatalities, and everything's repairable."

I nod a little and sit up, feeling a knot in my bearings loosen at last. The change in position eases the ache in my back but brings about a new one in my chassis, though I'd long come to accept that it's impossible to be comfortable in the last weeks of carrying. "Where's Tempest?"

"With Ironhide, being put to berth." The smile in Ratchet's voice is more telling than the ghost of it on his faceplates. "I wanted you to rest a while without him fussing over you before I discharged you."

Before I can protest his prescription of being kept from my family, he moves away from my berth and around a metal screen. A quick sensor scan informs me that Jazz is on the other side, no doubt still suffering the affects of the necrosis on his backstrut where Megatron once pulled him apart. It was a Primus-given miracle that he could be brought back from that, and a testament to how good a medic Ratchet is and how fortunate we are to have him. It is also the only thing that keeps me from throwing his wrench back at him when he does things like this.

Pressing against something that is surely misshapen by now in my side, I give the red light over the Medbay doors a glance before sliding off the berth and flexing my newly repaired leg. The lines are stiff but warm and flex after a few moments, and moving to the next berth causes no discomfort. Another solid repair, it seems. I look again to the light telling me that I'm locked in until further notice and frown when I see that it has turned green. The doors hiss softly and part a quarter of the way open, admitting a yellow femme. I find myself freezing in Luna's presence, watching as her optics flicker in a hack and the doors reseal one again. The red light is restored and she looks to me, her face disconcertingly unreadable as she approaches.

How does one bearing a child offer condolences to someone who has lost one? I'm older than this solar system and the answer eludes me, so I simply retract my facemask as a mark of respect as I kneel to her optic level. "Luna, I am so sorry." There was more in my vocal processor but it does not come.

Her features flicker with a grimace before she smiles a little, not quite sadly. "Her spark waits for us to try again. I took her back into my own, and we'll still welcome her into the world."

"We all shall," I murmur, a cold thread passing through my spark at the notion of our roles being reversed. I cannot imagine such pain. It is beyond compare, and though Prime I feel ill-equipped to help.

Luna seems to sense my discomfort and cocks her head, sympathetic. "Thank you for saving us, Prime. You too suffered, I fear, before the cure could be brought to us, and without it we would all have perished. Bluestreak would have died."

She speaks of the butchery of my ancestors, and I bow my head in acknowledgement. "I only wish I could have saved your sparkling as well."

Her optics flicker down and her arms twitch, as if tempted to hug herself. I expect the self-defensive posture but it does not come. "I know, Prime, but you saved myself and my sparkmate, and thus our future sparklings. We grieve, but we live in hope."

"Thank you, Luna." The soft words had left me before I realised I'd spoken them, and her optics brighten with a smile. Her gaze shifts to my chassis and the sparkling shifts as if it can sense it's being watched, and her expression is a balm to my spark.

* * *

The dynamic within the Base had changed, and the differences became more obvious to Optimus over the week following his release from the Medbay. All of the Autobots had survived a potentially terminal disease and now carried a part of the Ancient Primes within their bodies, something that was as humbling as it was exhilarating. There was a greater sense of life in the corridors and rec room, not to mention outside.

Bumblebee and Tempest had concocted a game that resembled rugby, bargained a reasonably sized patch of land from NEST and then immediately set about painting the markings down whilst Skywarp and Thundercracker erected goalposts. It was already proving to be a popular venture, with bots formulating teams of five and setting up a betting pool before the first match had been played. The game would come after the ongoing war with the Decepticons and individual day-to-day duties, of course, but this means of the Autobots spending their precious free time was already raising morale and Optimus had granted it his full approval.

It also drew their attention away from him, for which he was wholly grateful. They were all reunited, in good health, and the sparkling was due within days. That the betting pool on him had reopened was only the tip of the iceberg. When he had been carrying Tempest, there was excitement rooted solely in the anticipation of a sparkling – something that they had not had for centuries. However, it had been overshadowed by the knowledge that this was a sparkling that had been forced on their Prime by the enemy, and that Megatron would be doing everything in his power to retrieve the child. This time, the coming sparkling was the result of a union between two of their most respected and admired mechs, a joyous occasion however it was viewed.

Sitting in one of the enormous armchairs in the rec room with his feet up on a crate, Optimus knew full well that every bot in here had been casting him looks as if expecting him to deliver any minute. Magnus was being particularly diligent, which was costing him in the Mario Kart tournament he'd become embroiled in with Prowl and Jolt. The latter Autobot looked up when Starscream came into the room from the kitchen with a cube of energon in hand, scooting silently along the sofa to make room. Such gestures had become commonplace towards him from all the Autobots since developing the cure, though Starscream didn't draw attention to it.

A slight nod of thanks to Jolt and the Seeker sat, looking to Optimus sitting nearby on his left. Mindful of the colourful game on the projection screen, he privately. _You look about ready to drop._

Optimus smiled a little, reaching down beside the chair and retrieving his own cube. _Not quite. A watched pot doesn't boil._

The Seeker cocked his head a little, swallowing a sip of energon. _When did the pains start?_ At Optimus's surprised blink he turned his attention to the screen and rolled his shoulder in a shrug. _You usually sit right foot over left, so it being the other way around indicates that that's the only way you're comfortable, which implies something hurts, and you're due sometime about now, so…_

Unseen, Optimus shook his head a little. The bot's powers of observation and deduction were occasionally as unnerving as they were impressive, though he was grateful for Starscream's discretion in this case. _This morning._

Watching Magnus send Jolt's character off-road in a particularly savage attack, the resulting curses drawing a baritone chuckle, Starscream took another sip. _So where's Ironhide? Shouldn't he be here holding your hand and smothering you in solicitude?_

_Precisely why I haven't told him yet_, Optimus replied dryly, mouth quirking in a smile. _ He's on the pitch teaching Tempest how to tackle._

Starscream's optics rolled. _Oh joyous. Just the skills I want in a sparkling who already jumps on me to 'play fight'. I'll have to teach him some aerial attacks to get the old slagger back._

_And here I thought we already filled too much of our time with fighting. I should have encouraged Bumblebee and Tempest to start up art classes or something equally peaceful._ Optimus shuttered his optics with a grimace as he pressed a hand to the side of his chassis, slowly arching his back minutely to ease off a trapped part.

The movement was subtle enough not to call attention, though of course Starscream saw it like a flare. _Moving might ease it. At least for now._

Finishing the cube and pushing up to his feet with a wince, Optimus sighed through his vents in agreement. _More than likely, and there are a few things I want to get done before this truly starts._

Starscream snorted a laugh at that, drawing a brief frown of puzzlement from Prowl before the tactician was nuked by Magnus's blue shell and distracted once more. The Seeker shook his head at the departing Prime. _Trust you to still want to do your paperwork whilst in labour_.

Optimus shook his head a little as he stepped out of the rec room and began to make his way through the kitchen. _I assure you, Starscream, I never -want- to do paperwork._

* * *

The acidic burn of echoed pain had finally drawn Ironhide across the Base to Prime's office, stepping inside without the customary knock or chime. He found Optimus pacing behind the desk, frowning at a pad and tapping a stylus against the top of it thoughtfully. Exposed by the retracted mask, his mouth was a hard line of concentration.

"What's wrong?" Ironhide barked, somehow more perturbed by his sparkmate's lack of response to the constant, cramping sensation than the simple presence of it.

"I'm trying to word an explanation of what happened in Egypt," Optimus replied evenly, not breaking from his determined pacing whilst his internals slowly ground themselves into new, foreign configurations. "So far I have: We recently saved your planet from complete destruction, so you can take your complaints about us damaging your antique architecture again and shove them up Megatron's aft."

Ironhide gave no sign that he'd heard the snapped retort. "You're in pain."

The taller mech glanced to him with an exasperated sigh but continued walking. "It's labour, 'Hide. I'm supposed to be in pain."

Azure optics dimmed with shock before Ironhide rounded the desk and came to match the mech's strides, a hand hovering over his backstrut. "What're you doing in here? Why isn't Ratchet with you?"

Optimus's vents groaned the warm air of a long-suffering sigh. "I've another three to five hours of this before it warrants Ratchet's attention, and I don't need to spend them on a berth.

Ironhide's brow arched and he snatched away the pad and stylus. "No fragging way – you're going now, at least to get checked."

The taller mech paused with a frown, fully prepared to tell Ironhide that he wasn't going anywhere until he was ready, and that he knew his own body well enough to judge that himself, but cut himself off at the other's expression. Flooding the bond as much as his faceplates, Ironhide was feeling more uncertain anxiety than excitement and truly was worried about what was happening. Optimus offered a smile and laid his hand on a dark shoulder. "It will be fine, 'Hide. Everyone and everything is ready for our sparkling, and he will come to us as planned."

A slight nod from the weapons specialist, appreciative of the reassurance though he still unsubtly guided the other out of the office and towards the Medbay. "How can you be so calm?"

"Because I do not wish for him to be born into fear, only our love," Optimus replied with a smile, nudging his hand against his sparkmate's side as they made their way down the corridor. "This is a joyous occasion."

"I know that," Ironhide murmured with narrowed optics, the vibrations again his hand on the mech's backstrut alerting him to the parts shifting torturously inside. The Medbay's doors hissed open. "But I ain't gonna stop worrying even if-"

The dark mech trailed off into stuttered static, causing Optimus to look up and then immediately grin in undisguised amusement. Starscream was sat at Ratchet's workbench making final adjustments to the helm of their sparkling's protoform, the medic standing in close contact beside him and running an idle and affectionate hand over his wings as he watched. They both turned to the doorway at Ironhide's surprised sound, Ratchet's optics widening as if caught.

A beat, then: "When the frag did this happen?"

Optimus coughed a laugh, a hand moving to his side again as the pain peaked. It was enough to break Ironhide's gawk, the dark mech quickly resting his hand atop the one pressing against throbbing panels. Starscream stood but remained by the workbench as Ratchet approached. "Big day for you, Ironhide," the Seeker announced, looking a touch smug.

Ratchet shot Ironhide an apologetic look before taking over from his hands and guiding the tall mech to a berth. "Starscream warned me that you'd be coming in later today. It looks like the little one's going to be punctual."

Ironhide hovered at the medic's side as Optimus sat up on the edge of the berth, not at all inclined to lie down. "How's he doing, Ratch?"

Optimus frowned at him, irritated. "I'm in labour, 'Hide, not deaf."

"Just fine," Ratchet replied a touch louder than necessary, scanning over the closed plates. "Your chassis's sealed whilst your components transform to make room, so you can move around if it helps until the seal breaks. Then I'll put you on an energon drip and deliver the sparkling."

"Why do I need a drip?" Optimus asked tightly, shifting when a neural bundle was pressed back into his backstrut as his ignition was steadily pushed back several inches.

"Because labour is a massively taxing process, and it's going to hurt more than you seem to anticipate," the medic replied with a raised brow, folding his arms as Optimus slid off the berth again. "If you take energon orally you're more than likely to purge instantly. As much as you'll feel like you're about to offline, though, it will be over fairly quickly in the end."

"Comparatively speaking in perspective, of course," Starscream interjected from the across the room, apparently keeping a respectful distance from the couple. "I'm sure that getting stabbed through the spark seemed a longer event than the few seconds of impalement actually were."

"He has a point," Optimus murmured, one hand resting on the berth as the other pressed on his chassis. It didn't help much now, but it was a gesture of doing something that allowed him to feel like he had an iota of control over the situation. "I'd like to do this without pain suppressants, though."

Ratchet nodded his agreement, turning with a frown at Starscream's suppressed laugh. The Seeker had a fist pressed to his chin and was grinning at the dark mech at the medic's side. "Looks like it'll be a very big day for you, Ironhide: Finding out about me and Ratch', having your sparkling being born and offlining at the hands of your labouring sparkmate. I might just stick around to watch."

* * *

"You're doing beautifully, love."

Optimus looked up from where he was doubled over the berth, his hands maintaining an iron grip on its edges. The mech had been in hard labour for an hour now and was finding it impossible to keep still. This left Starscream managing the energon drip whilst Ratchet monitored his progress.

Optics almost white in bright pain narrowed on Ironhide. "What in the Pit makes you say that?"

Though his faceplates were still tight with concern, Ironhide smiled at his sparkmate. "'Cause you look beautiful."

A groan as another part of the large engine was forced into a position it couldn't remain in permanently. As the sparkling had grown deep inside his chassis, parts needed to move out of the way to provide it a way out. And space was already tight.

"I swear to Primus," Optimus bit out, optics shuttering as his head bowed again, "If you say something like that again, I will shoot you." A sadistically timed and very hard kick from the sparkling made his frame jerk, his empty tank trying to retch.

Grimacing at the sparkling's incredibly cramped confinement, not to mention Optimus's notable discomfort, Ratchet laid a hand on a broad shoulder. "Straighten up if you can. That's it. Just try to move with it."

Starscream, whom had remained silent since the Cybertronian equivalent of transition had begun, adjusted the energon drip to deliver a richer charge. He could see in the weakly twitching lines that the mech's strength was almost gone, and they couldn't be sure how long this would go on for. Prime was a big mech, which meant a lot of components to move aside into the smallest possible space.

Arching stiffly as the Matrix was driven upwards, Optimus leaned readily into his sparkmate when a supportive hand was offered. His optics opened to slits and fixed on Ratchet. "It didn't hurt this much with Tempest."

Ratchet gave a thin smile, stepping into the mech and feeling his chassis with flat hands. "Actually it did, but you were near-offlined and too charged up from battle to tell. You're doing fine, though. Textbook."

"It'll all be worth it," Ironhide added with a squeeze of his hand.

There was an involuntary static crackle as Ratchet pressed firmly on the central seam of his chassis, then a soft sound before the plates parted fractionally and fluid issued forth. The medic tapped the berth. "Nearly there, now. Your chassis is open and the umbilical lines have been retracted. Up on the berth."

Getting onto the berth at this point seemed a well considered torture in Optimus's processor, but once up and sat back it was infinitely more comfortable. Ironhide hovered on one side, holding his wrist whilst Ratchet stood on the other. The medic ran a sensor-equipped finger through the escaping fluid, satisfied to find it a clean form of weak energon.

"Optimus." He followed the name with a sharp click, drawing the mech's attention. His optics were warbling at the edges with pain and exhaustion. "You're nearly there, I promise. I know it hurts, but if you do exactly what I say, it'll be over quickly. Do you understand?" At Prime's nod, he motioned to the leaking chassis. "Open for me."

Optimus did so, drawing one leg up against another swell in the otherwise constant pain. He could tell from Ironhide's expression that it was a sight to behold, though he was too burnt out to want anything more than for it to be over.

Inside the broad chassis, every component between the sparkling and surface armour was pulled back and trembling from the strain of being so. The mech curled within shimmered with energon and coolant, only partially obscured now by the silver cables that had made its umbilical cocoon. Starscream moved to Ratchet's side, ready.

The medic's hands hovered over the chasm. "Alright, now, tense everything for me as if you were about to transform. It'll hurt, but think of your sparkling."

There was a momentary pause as Optimus both marshalled his strength and braced himself. When he twisted the cogs and pulled the transformation lines already bent out of shape he saw white, and the pressure within his chassis was astounding. He heard something crack, and the hiss of pressurised fluid escaping, before Ratchet's hands deftly slipped in and eased out the little mech that his body had offered up.

Ironhide watched as the sparkling, their sparkling, was handed across to Starscream who cleared his vents and ragged off the majority of the fluid coating him. The sparkling began to squirm and chirp, bright blue optics flickering open as the Seeker finished and offered him out to Ironhide.

The dark mech took him in both hands, cradling him inside his arm as he had once held Tempest, and ran a finger down his face. The mech was almost entirely pitch black, like him, but bore a crimson edging to a handful of his parts. He chirped a cry but quieted when he managed a clumsy grip on a single blunt finger, emitting a digital purr as he mouthed on the tip.

Ironhide looked up to see Optimus watching them, and his spark throbbed anew at the warm and weary smile he wore. He seemed unaware of Ratchet removing the stray umbilical lines, only shifting when the medic removed his hands which triggered his parts to begin to shunt back into place. Ratchet and Starscream exchanged a look before they both retreated towards the workbench, granting some space. Panels shifting shut to finish the transformation unseen, Optimus extended a hand to touch the sparkling in the dark mech's arms. Grinning broadly now, Ironhide stepped closer and considered the bright little optics looking between them both. "Evenin' Forge. Been looking forward to meeting you for a long time."


	14. Chapter 14

Family Matters

_Chapter 14_

The regular human visitors to the Base had been lingering since rumour of Prime's extending stay in the Medbay got around that afternoon, and the rec room had turned into a kind of waiting room. Bumblebee, Sideswipe and Prowl were watching an American football game and discussing tactics, whilst Magnus sat in the large chair Optimus tended to use with half an optic on the match. Skywarp and Arcee were playing cards, and Bluechrome and Luna were curled against one another on the sofa. Sitting at the human sized table to one side, Sam, Mikaela, Lennox and Epps drank coffee and spoke over the burbling din of mixed English and Cybertronian.

"How do you reckon it's going?" Sam asked, looking to Lennox automatically as the only one out of the four of them with a child. "I haven't heard any screaming."

"Don't reckon the boss bot's the type to scream," Epps murmured across the lip of his coffee mug.

"I don't think he'd necessarily have a choice," Mikaela replied with a grimace, though paused thoughtfully. "He could mute his vocal processor I suppose."

The fell into silence again, idly taking in the activity in the room. Skywarp and Arcee had been worth watching lately, with what appeared to be a deepening friendship beginning to morph into something no one had unexpected. It was little give-aways – the odd touch to a shoulder or wing; always seeming to have their first Cubes of the day in each others' company; smiles at inside jokes.

Lennox took a sip of coffee and lingered the liquid on his tongue, thinking back to those rationed drinks of warm water in the desert, sitting inside a cavern with the injured Prime awaiting rescue. Even bleeding and exhausted, the mech had somehow still given off a regal air.

Optimus had hardly spoken during the day they had spent waiting, and then only to offer words of reassurance to Sam and Mikaela. Lennox could tell he was occupied with worry for his unborn and unmoving sparkling, and for the Autobots all suffering from the necrosis back at the Base. He cared for the bots in his charge more than any military commander the soldier had ever known, and regardless of the elevating status of being a Prime. He cared for them like family – like a father.

Looking across the room, Lennox's gaze flickered between Bumblebee and Sideswipe as he recalled that nightmarish period where Optimus had been dead. Ironhide had wanted to leave – a reaction he better understood now that he knew that the scarred mech had loved Optimus more than anyone had known for centuries. Ratchet had convinced him to remain, citing their Prime's wishes, but no one was certain of what Optimus would have done if he were still there to guide them. It was as if he was a figure larger than themselves and beyond their understanding in his patience, bravery and devotion. The Prime symbolised the best of them, and it had only humbled him into deeper compassion. They couldn't ask for a better role model, a higher standard of integrity to live up to.

Fatherhood suited Optimus, Lennox concluded with a soft smile, because there needed to be more like him in the universe. That, and it brought the mech such unabashed joy. Now he was as excited to see Optimus again as he was the new sparkling, and was doubly glad that he was in the best possible care to deliver. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

Lennox broke the silence softly, drawing the others' eyes to him. "I really thought we'd be doing this in the desert." There was a shared look of bemusement and mutual relief. "Sure as hell glad that things are in Ratchet's hands and not ours."

"And Ironhide's there too," Sam added, glancing towards the door again. They'd all been door-watching for the last three hours, greeting every bot who'd come in with an unconscious sigh.

Lennox made a soft sound of agreement. "I missed Annabel being born. I'm really glad 'Hide's there to see his son come into the world."

Sam looked to Mikaela thoughtfully. "I thought you said Ratchet was going to let you assist? Part of your medic training or something."

"He did, and Optimus was fine with it." Her shoulder twitched in a shrug. "Ironhide was a bit leery, though, and I didn't want to push it. But if the options were to do it on my own with Optimus hurt in the middle of the Sahara, or to wait in the rec room whilst he delivered in the Medbay, I'd take this every time. Besides," she paused with a look between both of the femmes in the room with a smile, each captivating the attention of the two mechs sitting with them. "I'm sure I'll get my chance to help deliver a sparkling sometime."

Everyone looked up when the doors opened, half expecting another stray bot to stop in and all getting to their feet when it was one of the mechs they'd been waiting for. Ironhide's expression when he'd shared the news of their coming sparkling was nothing close to the beaming grin he bore as he carried Forge into the busy rec room. "Will, come look what I got."

Bumblebee punched Magnus in the arm with an excited warble, a response that puzzled the big mech, as the humans gathered at the dark mech's feet. Ironhide kneeled and held out the wide eyed sparkling in cupped hands.

"Oh, he's adorable!" Mikaela crooned, offering out a hand and grinning when it was gently batted at.

"What, no rocket launchers came with?" Sam asked, grinning though with a flutter of unease at Mikaela's apparently renewed broodiness. He had to admit, though, that the sparkling was as cute as any little metallic being could be.

Lennox watched with a warm knowing of the fatherly pride that the scarred mech was exuding. "What's his name, Hide?"

Withdrawing the sparkling back into his chassis when the new shadows of the crowding Autobots made the sparkling chirp anxiously, Ironhide answered without looking up. "This is Forge."

Lennox nodded as Sam issued a short laugh. "Hey, that's clever."

Ironhide nodded fractionally, rising to his feet so that the bots could see better. "Me and Optimus were tossing between that and Colt. Said I could choose when I saw 'im."

"How's the big guy doing?" Epps called up, watching as Magnus ran an appreciative thumb down Forge's cheek.

"Alright, though he'll be resting up on a berth for a while yet," Ironhide replied before meeting Magnus's optics. "He did good. Textbook, apparently. If you can get past Ratch' he'd probably like a visitor."

Nodding his thanks with a soft smile, Magnus gave the sparkling a final warm glance before weaving out of the room. Bluestreak and Luna came about from behind the weapons specialist and gazed upon the new arrival with bright optics. Their hands found one another in a tender grip, the yellow femme leaning into the taller mech as she opened an internal comm.. _I want to try again._

The marksman arched a brow and looked down. _Yeah? So soon?_

She smiled. _And you're the one who always wants to do things straight away._ Her optics wandered back across to the chirping sparkling, her lips plates arcing upwards a little more. _I want to hold her, Blue._

A short, certain nod and he squeezed her hand. _Can't wait. _A beat before his processor whirred into the speed of his namesake. _But first you'll need a full service check from Ratchet, and we'll ask Prime about taking the time off duty, make sure Wheeljack's not making anything really scary, and anything else we can think of to make it as safe and comfortable as possible._

Ironhide glanced about the room again, frowning at an absent face. "Where's Pest?"

"Thundercracker took him out earlier to keep him occupied," Prowl answered as he leaned in towards the sparkling, his slight features lifting with a smile. "Something about seeing penguins, I believe. I've already them, and they'll be back sometime this evening."

A grin and Ironhide bounced the sparkling a little, earning a flurry of chirps. "Hear that, Forge? Few hours and you'll be meeting your big brother."

* * *

Starscream was cleaning the used equipment at the workbench with a distracted processor, though his sharp hands still worked efficiently. He listened to the medic's approaching footsteps from where he had been with Optimus behind the metal screen at the end of the Medbay, not looking up from his task when Ratchet stopped at his side. "How's he doing?"

Taking up the first drip line that had been wrecked mid-'contraction' from the tray of cleanser, Ratchet began wringing it out with gentle hands. "He's gone into recharge at last, thank Primus. I've replaced the torn lines, but the dent in the Matrix is just going to have to stay there. Other than that, he's doing well." A slanted smile. "Pit, I'd go so far as to say he's good at this."

The Seeker shook his head a little, draining the used cleanser down the workbench's sink whilst Ratchet wound the drip around his hand. "I don't understand how anyone would want to go through all that, let alone twice."

"Instinctive imperative to reproduce," Ratchet replied with a shrug. "Physically actualising an expression of unconditional love, not to mention the fact that we class as an endangered species now. It almost a duty to have children." He suppressed a smirk, though a lone brow arched. "I hear Seeker sparklings are particularly adorable."

Starscream froze, and it was only the mercy of his hands being empty that meant he didn't drop anything. He fixed the smirking medic with a hard glare. "That's not even marginally funny."

"I'd beg to differ," Ratchet replied through a soft chuckle.

The Seeker folded his arms with a sigh, briefly touching his shuttered optics. "I suppose the secret's out about us now," he announced in an unapologetically wild change of topic. "And the old fragger didn't so much as threaten to offline me, distracted though he was. Prime's likely given us his blessing, unless he's had a personality transplant."

Ratchet hummed in agreement. "Thundercracker's pretty content with our, situation, too."

Starscream's optics narrowed fractionally. "You talked to Thundercracker about me?"

The medic frowned a little. "No. I put up an ad for advice on the communal notice board in the rec room. Right next to the _Do Not_ list and the match fixtures. Sideswipe supplied some particularly colourful interfacing advice."

A withering look, though there was the ghost of a smile. "You're a pain in the aft."

"Something we have in common," Ratchet replied with a laugh through his vents, returning his gaze to the equipment as he tidied it away. They fell into companionable silence until finally the medic rested his hands on the now cleared workbench and regarded the Seeker thoughtfully. The question had been nagging at the back of his processor all afternoon, and up until now there hadn't been time to ask it. "How come Thundercracker took Tempest out and not you? I thought you didn't mind the cold."

"I don't, but I wanted to help with Prime." Starscream rolled one angular shoulder in a shrug, mouth twitching in a smile. "And it'd do Thundercracker good to do something fun."

Ratchet nodded slightly at the assessment of the overly serious Seeker, optics brightening as his processor followed an unconscious tangent. His processor drew connections with such speed that they sometimes preceded his conscious knowing of them. Unbidden came the image of Starscream's clawed fingers curled around the newborn's body, gently but without any timidity, his wrists bent to tip Forge slightly and protectively into his chassis. It reminded him of how the Seeker laid a hand on Tempest's shoulder when speaking to him, and how before he was moved into an adult frame the sparkling could often be found in Starscream's arms in the rec room. Starscream had always been closeby when someone was sparklingsitting, and then frequently the sole occupant of Tempest's attention.

He gave the Seeker a sidelong look, watching him inputting details for Forge's file into the computer. "What is it with you and sparklings?"

Bloody optics flickered in a surprised blink, the tiny plates of their shutters whirring in the quiet room. They fixed, narrowed with confusion, on the medic. "What?"

"Your affinity for them," Ratchet expanded, his voice soft though he knew Optimus couldn't hear them. His point wasn't immediately picked up and he cocked his head, lifting a brow. "The sole reason you defected from the Decepticons was to protect Tempest, and that was before he was even born."

Starscream shook his head with a soft exhale, returning his attention to the screen. "I defected from the Decepticons because I was tired of Megatron, and figured that his offspring could be a rallying point to stop the war." Another shrug, and his mouth quirked with a grimace. "Turns out I was wrong."

"It's early days yet," Ratchet replied quietly, his brow still furrowed in scrutiny. Though it was true that they'd been expecting more Decepticons to turn to their side once Tempest's existence and lineage was known, no one was laying blame for the small numbers. A beat passed before he pressed on. "And defecting didn't necessitate you tying your spark to Tempest's."

Starscream's gaze remained fixed on his task, not deviating to give the prying medic so much as a flicker of attention. "It was the only way I could prove to Prime that I meant it and that he could trust me," he uttered softly, evenly, though his darkening optics betrayed his apparent nonchalance.

Idly, Ratchet slid his hand beneath the bench and pulled across a stool, moving to sit on it. Atop the bench, his hands mated in an X of interwoven, complicated fingers. "You'd have earned his trust either way."

A derisive snort jerked Starscream's frame. "Probably. He's too soft-sparked for his own good sometimes."

Abruptly the medic found clarity, and on some level Ratchet swore he actually heard his processor spit out the answer to his unconsciously fuelled inquiry. Starscream wasn't protective of Tempest: he was devoted, and wholesparkedly so. The guardian bond didn't necessitate or bring about love, but it was clearly there. It was obvious how happy Tempest's decision to be a Seeker had made Starscream, and the old mech took great pride and satisfaction in tutoring the sparkling on flight. Tempest couldn't desire a more proficient teacher.

Amongst the Decepticons, Starscream had been the most skilled and feared. Megatron, though a fearsome opponent, was almost always preoccupied with Prime, so a bot had only to keep out of the way to be relatively safe from him. Starscream, however, had fired upon anyone and anything with a ferocity that was at times bewildering. He took measure of his opponents and worked out how to get through their defences without hesitation, fear or remorse. It was a rare combination in someone so intelligent, Ratchet had long ago extrapolated. Starscream was no blunt tool, but neither was he particular about his assignments. He would do things that could turn any bot's tanks, faction aside. It had been obvious at the Cybertronian nursery, millennia ago, which individual had murdered the youngest sparklings. And without a shot fired. In an unprecedented act of cruelty, he had killed them with his bare hands and taken the savagery of the entire attack that had left the Autobots reeling to depths Ratchet hadn't thought possible.

This was the mech that often shared his berth, had shared his spark, and yet it didn't match any more. Amongst them Starscream had mellowed, but more than that, he'd come to care, and thus to fear. He feared that he cared too much, and he feared losing this new life. And he felt remorse, perhaps for the first time, for thousands of years worth of misdeeds. He would ever admit to it, but the greatest evidence of it was found in how he treated sparklings.

Ratchet wasn't entirely sure why he was so interested in the Seeker's psychological relationship with sparklings, or what that meant. He could only assume that it was because they were, for all intents and purposes, involved now. Or perhaps it was simply curiosity towards a side of Starscream that exceptionally few had been privileged to see.

Glancing across to the screen where Starscream had held Prime's newborn, he spoke to the Seeker's lowered stare, mindful of how personal the ground he was treading was. "You're repenting."

Starscream turned on him as if struck. "Oh for frag's sake, Hatchet, not every facet of my behaviour has some deeper ulterior motive. Believe it or not I like sparklings, and I also happen to like the idea of us not dying out as a species after this now ultimately pointless war has driven us to the brink, so protecting sparklings has particular importance."

Ratchet cocked his head, optics bright with thought. "Do you want, sparklings, yourself?"

The scoff was so expected that it bordered on cliché. Laced with bitterness. "Yeah, 'cause I'm really the Sire type."

Ratchet couldn't help but smile a little sadly at the self-depreciation. "You treat Tempest like he's your own."

A long pause, and Starscream's reply came softly. "It's the guardian bond."

"That necessitates protection, not love," Ratchet interjected with a raised hand, feeling something like admiration blossom in his chassis. "I'd go so far as to say that you wish you were his creator and not Megatron."

Starscream's gaze remained on the screen, unseeing, but his voice hardened with defensiveness. "His parentage is irrelevant."

Now it was Ratchet's turn to scoff. "Yeah right. I'll bet that you'll be fond of Forge as well."

The Seeker finally straightened and shot the shorter mech an arch look. "I'm not issuing another guardianship."

"No one thought you would," Ratchet affirmed with a slanted, though serious, smile.

A 'hn' of acknowledgement and they lapsed back into silence. Finishing with the computer, Starscream turned to rest back against the workbench with folded arms. He regarded the medic evenly. "So what about you?"

Ratchet blinked, embarrassingly lost. "What about me?"

A half shrug though his expression remained fixed. There was a trace of a smile behind the intensity and cool, analytical caution though. "Do you want sparklings?"

Ratchet shifted a little and touched the back of his helm. "I'd not given it much thought to be honest, but maybe. If we'll be moving to Deniad to repopulate the species in the future as Prime has suggested, then it'd be outright negligent not to have children. But I don't know if I want one right away. I mean, not with you." His optics widened comically on the waiting Seeker. "I mean, I wouldn't mind, but it's not-"

Starscream held up a hand with a smirk, optics bright with not-quite condescension. "Good to know where you stand."

Rising from the stool, Ratchet stood mirroring Starscream's stance. He forced hot air out through his vents as a precursor to breaking the silence, and consequently the topic. "So, what now?"

A step forward put Starscream's hand on the medic's arm, steering him towards the door. "We let sleeping mech's lie, and grab a few cubes of High Grade to celebrate."

* * *

Magnus found it unnaturally easy to slip past Ratchet unnoticed across the Medbay, the medic apparently engrossed in whatever he was talking to Starscream about. He found Optimus in recharge and made to leave, though paused when azure optics flickered on and fixed him with a smile.

Matching the expression though without the deep weariness, Magnus moved to sit on the edge of the berth as the long body shifted to make room. "How're you feeling?"

"Likely far better than Ratchet's implying," Optimus replied with a wry look past the screen. "I shan't be wanting a clash with Megatron for a few days, but I'm fine."

"I saw Forge." Magnus bowed his head a little, almost grinning. "He's perfect."

A breathed laugh through his vents and Optimus smiled at the remark. "I made him myself."

Magnus nodded, finding it oddly easy to sink into the warmly personal conversation. It was a strangeness to see and speak to his commander and Prime as a Sire – to two sparklings, no less. Centuries of conflict and death made new life as surprising as it was precious, though Magnus felt that it suited Optimus as if he'd been meant to do it all along.

Thinking of the dark little mech, all smiles and bright-optic curiosity, replayed his brief meeting with Forge in his processor. "He looks a lot like Ironhide."

A liquid-warm smile and Optimus sat himself up a little, though with a wince. "Which he's most pleased of. As am I."

"It suits him," Magnus continued thoughtfully. "And you. When you'd said it before, I never truly believed that you didn't want sparklings."

"I didn't want the danger they would be in, but I've come to understand that perfect circumstances do not exist. Not with the war. Family is something to fight for and to take comfort in. Having brought two sparklings into being, now, I feels an almost selfish thing to do. It's fulfilling." His gaze lowered fractionally, processor threatening to turn inwards onto something he'd been trying hard not to think about today. "I didn't know that before, when I was with Elita."

"I'm sorry about her, Optimus," Magnus rumbled, also bowing his head, "and Chromia."

A ragged sigh and Optimus touched his shuttered optics. His words felt like a guilty admission that he would admit to very few. "Truthfully it hasn't quite registered yet. Everything happened so fast. Now I grieve and celebrate simultaneously, just as Ironhide does."

It was a reasonable mixture of emotions given the circumstances, Magnus mused, though he could tell that Optimus didn't think so. Certainly he felt guilty that he wasn't entirely consumed with grief over the loss of the femme whom had almost been his sparkmate, but he couldn't help but feel anything but joy for the safe arrival of his sparkling with Ironhide. Doubtless it would take some time to work through the sickly mix. "Is there anything I can do?"

Optimus smiled a little, knowing how well Magnus knew him and appreciating the subtlety of his offer. "Thank you, but I think it is a matter of time passing now."

Magnus gave a short nod, his voice strengthening. "We'll honour their memory, just as we have honoured all of those we have lost."

A soft sound of agreement and Optimus allowed only a few moments of silence before he spoke again. It was something he was anxious to know about in both meanings of the word. "Did you see Bluestreak and Luna?"

Magnus had no trouble seeing the motivation behind that question either. "They were becoming rapidly enamoured with Forge in the rec room." His voice softened and dropped, the plates of his face tightening. "Slagging awful thing they've been through."

"I cannot imagine it. Selfishly, I don't want to," Optimus replied softly, pressing a hand into his side as parts continued to shunt back into place with aching slowness. It would be a few days before Ratchet replaced the systems he'd removed, and then this discomfort would start all over again.

"That's not selfish. That's being a parent," came the dry remark, and Magnus slid off the berth to his feet. Touching a hand to his commander's arm, he offered a smile. "Come now. Ratchet'll have my head if I keep you from resting like you need to."

A rumbled laugh as Optimus shifted fractionally, seeking a remotely comfortable position. "I suspect that Starscream is keeping him preoccupied for now."

It took a moment for him to realise what the tall mech was insinuating, but the smile at his shocked reaction confirmed it to truth. Magnus shook his head, pinching the space between his shuttered optics. "Just when I thought I'd gotten used to this definition of 'normal.'" He waved a hand as if dismissing the thought from himself as much as Optimus. "Anyway: Recharge."

"Have Ironhide bring Forge back," Optimus replied flatly, resting his hands across his midsection. "Then I'll recharge properly."

Magnus tipped his head, optics bright. "Newborn separation anxiety?"

Optimus smiled a little, weariness becoming more pronounced with every passing second. He suddenly wasn't sure he'd be able to stave off sleep until Ironhide came back. "Something like that."

I come out of recharge feeling heavy and warm, apparently with only the minimum of rest my systems needed having been met as everything still aches and moves sluggishly. The lights are all off in the Medbay, but three pairs of optics cast a watery light across the berth. I sense Ironhide before I see him, slumped in a thick chair with his heels up on the berth and rumbling softly in recharge. Forge squirms with as much energy as his optics are bright in his miniature berth at my feet, reaching up for the third figure watching him with red light.

"You can hold him," I tell my son, mindful of Ironhide though he still shifts at the sound of my voice. I open a comm. channel to offer reassurance. _He won't break._

Tempest shifts his weight a little, watching me, before regarding the sparkling again. Finally he slips his hands into the small berth, earning a lyrical burst of sound from Forge. Though clearly nervous, Tempest does a fair job of settling him against his chassis and comes to stand beside me. His half brother begins to chirp intently as I sit up, and Tempest touches on the internal comm. again. _I think he's hungry_.

Already extending an energon line from my chassis, I take Forge as he is offered and put the tip against his mouth. He latches hard, drinking readily as his fists curl against his small chest.

Tempest makes a soft sound, shaking his head. _I can't believe I was ever that small_.

I arch a brow at him. _Actually, you were a fair bit bigger than this._ Looking back to the feeding sparkling, I run a thumb down his cheek and he sighs into my plates. _If it weren't for Megatron, you'd still be that size_.

The Seeker comes to sit on the edge of the berth, facing me. _Is Forge going to be upgraded like I was?_

I'm glad for the dark that disguises my grimace. He speaks so casually of one of the most traumatic things that can be done to a sparkling, and has handled it better than I could have hoped. _Not if it can be helped. I don't wish to set a precedent now that bots are deciding to have families_.

There is much that needs to be worked out on that front. Already some unease has filtered through to me about our populous increasing on the humans' planet, and we have done little to 'earn our keep' recently as the Decepticons have fallen quiet. Change is on the horizon, and I fear that I will not be able to negotiate all of it in our best interest. Before I would have bowed to the humans' wishes – left if they had asked it. We'd all become used to such a life. But with the likelihood of having carrying femmes amongst us, perhaps even mechs, I would be wary to go anywhere off-planet.

A tugging sensation at my hip draws me from my thoughts, my eldest lifting up the drip line demonstrably. _Isn't this a little counterproductive?_

He has a point, unwilling as I am to admit it. Technically meeting Forge's feeding requirements is why Ironhide is here, but I don't want to disturb him when he's not long been in recharge himself. _Would you like to do it?_

Tempest blinks. _Can I?_

A nod and I withdraw my line, gently passing Forge into his arms. _For an adult bot, you can share energon from any auxiliary line_, I tell him as he listens intently. _But sparklings need the most filtered energon we can give them, so you need to use one of the lines that feeds into the base of your spark chamber_.

He frowns, concentrating, and there comes the hiss of a seal breaking as the line shifts downwards. I hook it between thumb and forefinger for him, gently drawing the thin tube out from beneath his chest plates. Taking the end, he offers it to Forge himself and breaths a laugh when the sparkling latches hungrily. _Wow._

_I think that about surmises it_, I agree with my own soft laugh. _He should settle again in a few minutes. For the first few weeks of their lives, all sparklings are interested in is eating and sleeping._

Tempest glances up at me with a grin, his body curling instinctively about the small body. _So no taking him for joy rides in my cockpit yet?_

_Not for a while_. I nod to my sleeping sparkmate. _When you can convince Ironhide to let you take him for a flight, he's old enough to go._

He smiles a little with understanding. _'Hide's going to be worse than Scree when it comes to being protective, isn't he?_

_A thousand times so._

We lapse into a comfortable silence broken only by the soft hum of our vents and Forge clicking happily about the energon line. After a few minutes he quiets and his optics dim, the feeding line ultimately slipping from his mouth. Tempest shows no sign of moving, however, smiling down at the slumbering mech. Already he loves him, and it swells my spark.

_You can put him back to berth if you want to. It's late, and you've done a lot of flying today_. No response, and I touch his elbow. _Did you enjoy seeing the penguins with Thundercracker?_

_Hm?_ He looks up, expression remaining lost for a moment before he simply smiles and nods. _Oh yeah, it was good. We got mobbed after we landed._ A small shift and his optics dim on me, tentative. _Would it be alright if I, I mean, can I look after him for a bit? You're really tired, _Sire.

There's a pang of anxiety at the prospect of the newborn being taken away from me again, but I trust Tempest implicitly to care for him. And they should bond. _I'd like that Tempest, thank you. I know he'll be in good hands._

Getting to his feet, he seems to hug Forge into his chassis, instinctively drawing him up close to his spark. _Thanks, _Sire._ Rest well. I'll bring him back in a few hours – I promise._

I watch him leave, and Ironhide seems to wait until we are alone in the Medbay again before opening his optics. Weary and preoccupied as I am, I'd missed him slipping out of recharge whenever it had happened. "Good that 'Pest's so taken with him already."

Lying back again, I cover his hand with my own when he puts it on my arm. "I didn't realise you were awake."

He grumbles a little, rubbing his optics. "I'd say I was conscious more than awake, so Primus knows how you're doing. Feels like thick slag on the bond."

"Just wait until we've had a week of night feedings," I remark dryly. "Then we'll see how tired we both are."

"And the nightly walks," he replies with a grin I hear as much as see. "Don't forget those."

I sigh and rub my optics, the anticipated weariness somehow stacking on the existing ache. "And you want four of them, you say."

A rumbled laugh as he sinks into the chair, evidently as close to sliding back into recharge as I am. "We'll see how we get on. It's a lot, and you…" He trails off with a waved hand though I know from the slither of emotions trickling through the bond what he is getting at. He doesn't want to carry himself but he wants more sparklings, a combination he feels guilty about.

Resting a hand across my chassis, hot from where parts are still readjusting themselves, I rub my fingers against the throbbing ache. "There's no rush, though I must admit that it's addictive."

His optics brighten in surprise, frowning at me in deep scrutiny. "Yeah?"

I fidget on the berth a little, attempting to move with my transforming parts as I had in labour. Regardless of the discomfort, I cannot help but smile. "Creating our children… The pain seems negligible now. It feels almost selfish."

"That's the last word I'd ever apply t'ya, Optimus," he tells me, his hand tightening in a squeeze. "I'm selfish for not doing enough, and…" I dimly hear :slag it: across the bond as he shakes his head, optics narrowing. It takes a moment for him to compose the words and say them aloud. "I can't thank you enough for what you've given me."

"Given us," I correct softly, reaching out to trace his helm and watching as he sighs into my palm. "We're a family, 'Hide."

He breaths acknowledgement, gratitude, thanks, love and subtle excitement in one warm exhale through his vents, speaking better with the simple movement of air than the articulation of his thoughts. My sparkmate is a mech to listen to to converse with – most of what he says takes place in near-silence.

"So," he grunts, breaking us out of the moment and rubbing his thumb against my arm. "Ratchet and Screamer, eh?" A dry glance to me and I don't even attempt to hide my smile. He shakes his head. "You already knew."

"I'm Prime. It's my business to know," I reply with a shrug, shifting again at the burning prickle building in my chassis as the roots of umbilical lines begin to dissolve back into my systems. "And Ratchet was worried enough to talk to me. I told him that the Seeker who lives here with is not the same one as the one we spent centuries fighting. He's changed, and all for the better."

A rumbled sound of agreement before a heavy, resigned exhale. "Pit, they match each other. Can't understand half of what they're saying sometimes, and they're as glitched as each other. 'bout time the cranky slagger had something to be happy about."

If it weren't for the bond assuring me of the genuineness of that statement, I'd have assumed sarcasm where none existed. Of all the bots on this Base, it was Ironhide whom I'd expected to find fault with our most notorious Decepticon defector being romantically involved with our medic. He and Starscream had surpassed civility long ago, much to my relief, but working together to treat the necrosis has apparently brought them into friendship. Admittedly a barbed one rooted in insult, but he sincerely is happy for them.

I could tell him how glad I am of this development, of his full acceptance of Starscream amongst us as Tempest's guardian and the partner of one of our oldest friends. I could thank him for being understanding despite every reason not to be, and for setting aside eons of grudges to start anew. Instead, because I'm tired and sore, I murmur, "You're as soft sparked as I am."

A half smile, bordering on a smirk, and he sits forward to touch my jaw. He replies against my mouth, optics shuttered and spark warm and close to my chassis. "Don't go tellin' everyone."

Cupping his helm, I rest our foreheads together with thick contentedness flowing through my systems. "From seeing you with our son, I think everyone already knows." Anything more I could have said as a gentle gibe is lost against his mouth, a thick wave of feeling flooding through the bond as current crackles between our glossa. 'I love you' seems somehow insubstantial now, but I send it across anyway on a tide of the same feeling. His rough purr against my lips confirms receipt, and I idly wonder if this berth is big enough for us both to recharge on.

If you'd like to carry on reading, the sequel 'Pitch' is just a few clicks away. As always, please leave a little comment in a review – it's nice just to hear that people enjoyed the story.


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